


Missing In Action

by Jme



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, American Civil War, M/M, Royalty, Underage Character, Undercover, Violence, War, War Crimes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-26
Updated: 2012-12-03
Packaged: 2017-11-19 14:57:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 25
Words: 240,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/574536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jme/pseuds/Jme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Civil War didn't bring reconciliation and a United States like most everyone would have hoped. Instead, it separated the States in north and south, respectively The Democratic Union Republic of America with New York City as it's capital, and The Confederation of America, centered in Jackson, Missouri.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Full Summary: 'The Civil War didn't bring reconciliation and a United States like most everyone would have hoped. Instead, it separated the States in north and south, respectively The Democratic Union Republic of America with New York City as it's capital, and The Confederation of America, centered in Jackson, Missouri.  
> After the war ended, TCA was left a mess and there were still scattered fights for power until Civil War general Beauregard, most commonly known from the fabled Battle of Shiloh, managed to unite the people under his power. Beauregard was elected King, his descendants were to follow him for as long as the country, now Kingdom, existed, and the name was changed to Beauregia in honor of the man who had 'saved' the people.
> 
> Subsequently, the two countries developed in two very different directions. Border strives would break out every so often and war was declared at least twice a century. No one bothered themselves with the fact that the two countries were once one.  
> Beauregia didn't change much. Their economical foundation was agriculture and cheap labor. Slavery was never banned and the kingdom was ruled under tight, Christian leadership.  
> DURA on the other hand developed quickly, became based on new technology and democratic ideas. A global country, which housed the UN and was the international center of informative technologies and diplomacy.  
> Only throughout the twentieth century were the disputes buried and a united front raised through first the World Wars and later on The Cold War. But now, eighteen years after the fall of the Berlin Wall and the fall of communism an international threat, the rift has once again grown deep between the two countries and open war is once more stirring beneath the surface.
> 
> The future of both countries is entrusted to two bright young men. Fortunately, nothing is ever as it seems.'
> 
> Notes: Hey guys! Finally got an AO3 account. I'm stereotypeloser on LJ, and this is our monster-fic. I hope you guys like it. I call this the first draft, but it's been edited several times by myself and others. The reason I like to call it a draft is that, unfortunately, I lost touch with Danie (the co-author, danimpa on LJ) before the editing could be started, and since I wrote this when I was 17, I've always felt that I could change a few things within my half of the fic, make it flow a bit better, make the characters a bit less awkward, etc, but I've never felt comfortable changing it without her help since it was her idea and half of her writing. 
> 
> Anyway, in case anyone is interested, I wrote Brendon's parts (this includes Spencer and Jon, their families, and other OCs) and Danie took care of Ryan (including Tobias, his family, and other OCs.)
> 
>  
> 
> **This chapter is the only one with the awkward Ryan/Brendon headings.**

**Ryan**  
  
He ran, out of breath, the coffee spilling out of the Styrofoam cups and onto his gloved hands and he was so late. He had already gone through excuses in his mind, but he knew from experience that it was not acceptable to miss the bus. What was even less acceptable was to be late when he was on coffee duty.  


Finally he reached the building and ran through the sliding doors, luckily managing to reach the open elevator before it left. He pressed the button and bit down on his lip slightly, tapping the heel of his foot against the floor as he waited for what seemed like forever to reach the right floor.

"Ross!" Evans called the moment he stepped out of it. "Ross, you're late! The boss is furious, kid. And give me my coffee!"

Ryan took a deep breath to calm his temper. He was used to the boss being angry. He was used to being yelled at. He was even used to being called a kid; as though graduating from the academy a year early and being the youngest person to work here since the Cold War was a bad thing. He put the coffee on his desk, perhaps a little too hard judging by the amount of dark liquid splattering over the papers he'd left on his desk the previous night. "Take it yourself," he grumbled.

"Boss wants you in his office immediately, Ross," Jacobs yelled from the other end of the room, and Ryan sighed, peeling his gloves off and throwing them on the table before letting his coat follow, leaving him in the cheap suit that was mandatory office wear.

He smoothed down his hair as best as he could without a comb to brush it backwards out of his face and hurried down the corridor, into yet another elevator and up two floors. At last he found himself in front of the glass doors leading into the main office, and he reached a hand out, knocking meekly.

"Who's there?" came a loud, booming voice and Ryan already felt himself shrinking a little. He was so not in the mood to be reprimanded.

"Ross," he answered, taking in another breath before opening the door upon being requested. "I'm sorry, sir," he immediately said. "I just, I missed the bus. I know it's inexcusable, but-" He quickly shut his mouth when he realized from the look on the other man's face that he was just managing to make everything worse on himself.

"Ross, you're a fine agent, and you already know I don't tolerate tardiness," the director stated. "That, however, is not what this is about. I have an assignment for you."

Ryan felt relief flow through him, followed quickly by a fair amount of excitement. "Really, sir?" he asked, unable to hold back a smile. "I thought you said I'd need more experience before being ready to take on field work, though."

"When I give you an assignment I expect a 'thank you, sir'," the director stated. "Ask your questions elsewhere. Morrison will brief you on the details later. And you share an apartment with Robb, don't you?"

"Thank you, sir. Yes, sir," Ryan quickly answered, straightening his back a little.

"Tell him that I know he isn't sick and that if he keeps trying to convince me he is every time he gets a new video game, he might as well hand in his resignation. His idea of being a part of one of the most elite units in the country seems to differ quite a bit from mine."

Ryan hid his chuckle behind his hand and a slight cough before nodding. "Yes, sir," he responded again.

"Dismissed then," the director said, looking just a little annoyed and Ryan made sure to hurry out.

***

** Brendon **

A lot of people claimed that being viewed under the public eye was hard; they said that people always judged you and that a lot of the things they made up could be hurtful. They said having power and keeping your power was difficult and, even, that money could not buy happiness. Brendon disagreed with this whole-heartedly. He had power, and lots of it. He knew how to keep that power, how to treat those who were loyal to him, and how to deal with his enemies.

When asked, his usual answer to questions about stories in newspapers and gossip in magazines, was that he didn't care what people thought of him. He was, after all, their ruler. The people who respected him turned their noses up at such stories and anyone who believed them or passed them on didn't matter. When asked how he could say that anyone in his Kingdom didn't matter, Brendon would smile that irresistible smile and bat his eyelashes, shaking his head. "Oh, I didn't mean that they, as people, did not matter. I simply meant that they could believe whatever they wanted- it doesn't really affect me. At the end of the day, I am still the Crown Prince, the Hereditary Prince, and I will not be losing my place. I simply meant that, in the end, their little tales and gossip stories, do not matter. I don't care for falsities." And everyone would be too enthralled by his pretty brown eyes to know that he'd just told them- in the nicest way possible- that their opinions didn't matter.

Of course, not everything about Brendon's life was this easy. His days were repetitive, to say the least, and he often found himself exhausted and annoyed by the routine of his everyday life. His whole life had been spent learning the perfect etiquette, meeting important people who meant nothing to him, and being groomed to take over the throne once the time came. Brendon knew the rules; he knew what he could not do and what he must do, he knew how to handle interviews and nosy questions without being ignorant and disrespectful, but most of all, he knew that, on top of everything else, he had to be courageous and never show an ounce of fear. Not when he was by himself, not when he was with his parents, and certainly not in the company of his people. He knew that, if need be, he would die for his country. He knew that losing those he loved was inevitable and all part of life, and that, when the time arose, he would fight to keep and maintain his power, no matter what. Brendon knew that, above all, he could never completely trust anyone but himself and he felt no qualms about lying to get what he wanted, or what he thought was best for his country.

All this may have been odd when knowing that these were the exact things running through the seventeen year old's mind, but Brendon never had the chance to think about such things and he never compared himself to other men his age. As far as he was concerned, he was far superior to any of them, and could not reasonably be compared, anyway.

|

Routine for Brendon was, in many ways, the same routine as every other boy in his boarding school. Just because he was the throne's successor did not mean that he was exempt from going to school and getting into a good University. Knowledge, his father had often told him, was the key to power. And so every week day, at exactly 7:00 am, his alarm clock would switch on, the morning's current song telling him that it was time to wake up and get ready.

When he finally opened his eyes (usually at a quarter past), the first thing he saw was Zach. Groaning, Brendon shoved his face into his pillow, looking away from his bodyguard. He hated always waking up to the sight of that huge, bald man. Sighing, Brendon propped himself up on his elbows and looked back at Zach lazily, blinking dramatically to show just how tired he really was. Okay, maybe Zach wasn't  _that_  huge. He was sturdy, though, with somewhat of a beer-belly. And he really was bald, with dark glasses over his eyes (sometimes Brendon wondered if they'd been attached permanently) and a pitch black suit. Mumbling something about not wanting to get up, Brendon heaved a great sigh and sat up, pushing back his blankets so that he could swing his legs to the side and let his feet land on the carpeted floor. Rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands, Brendon stood and when he finally let his hands drop to his sides, he stared right at Zach again.

"Do you have any idea how obnoxious it is to wake up to you every morning?" Brendon asked, his tone serious even as a smile tugged at his lips. Zach simply shrugged, without bothering to reply, and turned to leave the room so that Brendon could get dressed. It was the same thing every morning; as soon as Brendon was out of bed, Zach would leave the room and wait on the other side of the door for Brendon to be ready to be accompanied to his classes.

Once Zach was gone, Brendon shrugged and trudged over to the desk under the window on the far left side of the room. There, he pressed down on the power button to his laptop and waited as it turned on before entering his password and then retreating to the washroom to brush his teeth as it loaded. When he emerged from the adjacent washroom, his hair was brushed, his face was clean and his breath minty fresh. He could never be seen looking less than perfect when he exited this room; it was a good thing he was already naturally good-looking, he thought to himself with a smug grin. Plopping down onto his computer chair, Brendon signed into his IM and smiled when he noticed who was online.

He'd been in contact with the same man, now, for a few months and, to Brendon's surprise, he'd actually started liking the man. And, most frightening of all, Brendon had actually started  _trusting_  him. Of course, the man had no idea who in the world Brendon really was; that was the only way Brendon felt safe to tell him some of his secrets. Of course, these secrets had nothing to do with his Father. He was not, after all, completely daft. Smiling, Brendon opened up a window and sent him a message. Glancing at the clock, he noticed he only had a few minutes before he'd have to get dressed and leave, but Brendon found that he could never leave the computer without at least a 'hello' and 'goodbye' to his internet friend.

Sometimes, Brendon would sit back and eye their conversations nervously. He was telling this person things that he himself had never sought to explore and learn more about. Not, that is, until a few weeks into their close relationship, if you could call it that. The first time they'd discussed something near unthinkable, was the night Brendon had gone back home to the Palace and found something he never would have expected in a million years. Of course, since Brendon was far from stupid, he knew that these certain... kinds of people existed. He'd just never thought he'd see someone in his own home.

What he'd walked in on was a complete accident, and Brendon had cringed and wrinkled his nose in disgust upon seeing it. The kitchen cooks, whom he'd been looking for, were gathered around some frail looking boy and cheering quietly as he danced (though it was nothing like the dancing Brendon had been brought up learning, he knew it had to be some form of dance) provocatively. Brendon, horrified, had turned red with embarrassment and slammed out of the Worker's Quarters without a word. He'd known that this happened, that his Father had no problems with his workers bringing home some 'company', as long as they did it quietly, but he'd never wanted to see it first hand. And these were men staring at a young boy!

Brendon felt as though he belonged in Ancient Greece, where men would openly have sexual intercourse with other men, and nobody had problems with it. Not even their wives. Shaken, Brendon had retreated to his room and turned on his laptop, his mind buzzing with the information he wanted to tell his friend who lived so far away and would not judge him. Brendon had spent hours typing that night, relaxing little by little as he drank a small glass of gin. It was then that he divulged his slight tendency towards some men. He hadn't meant to say it, but he hadn't been thinking straight, and within seconds they were discussing his possible attraction towards men. They'd talked about it several times after that, but Brendon was never able to admit any of it, even to himself, in the outside world; the real world.

When Brendon glanced to the clock again, he groaned and quickly typed out a goodbye. Sighing, he clicked on the 'Start' button with his mouse, then clicked 'Turn Off Computer' before walking over to his closet to dress in the horrible ensemble they made him wear as part of the uniform.

***

** Ryan **

He had been waiting for two hours now, just continuing the paperwork from yesterday since someone had yet to show up and brief him. He was incredibly excited, though. The paperwork had always felt meaningless to him. That wasn't why he'd agreed to join the academy and, upon graduating, the bureau. He had joined because he believed in the ideals of his country and he would do whatever it took to serve and protect those, fight for them. He wasn't the type to do paperwork, he wanted to be out there, to make a difference, and he was thrilled that he may finally get his chance.

There was a sigh from the desk next to him and he turned with a cocked eyebrow, smiling slightly. "What's wrong, Peters?" he asked with a slight roll of his eyes. "Loverboy off line so you actually have to work instead of passing off cyber sex as background for an assignment?"

"It's not sex," Peters grumbled. "I'd have to get off on it for it to be. And I don't even like guys. Don't for one second think it's pleasure. It's the worst work I've had to do in forever, and no one will even tell me what it's for."

Ryan chuckled slightly, shaking his head. "Whatever you say, buddy. What's with not telling us anything lately, though? Boss called me up to tell me I have an assignment, but no one's even come around to brief me yet."

"I'll bet you it's got something to do with the peace conference in July," Peters stated, his voice suddenly hushed. "The government is desperate to know what cards Beauregia plans to play beforehand. Also whether we have to prepare for war or if we can feel safe for another year."

"Same old, same old," Ryan muttered, sighing. "It's crazy to think that we used to be one nation."

"It definitely-" Peters started, but cut himself off when someone stepped up to their desks, clearing his throat. "Hello, Winter."

"Peters," the elderly man answered with a slight nod. "Ross." Both quickly stood and saluted the man who answered with yet another nod. "Peters, I need that file finished in ten minutes, no excuses. And Ross, you come with me."

Both of the younger men nodded, Peters visibly starting to sweat as Ryan got out of his chair and followed the officer out of the large office space, down another corridor and into one of the private offices where he was instructed to sit down in a chair in front of the desk. Winter himself got down in the comfortable-looking chair on the other side.

The older man pushed a button and the room went dark. Then the sound of a computer turning on could be heard through the quiet office. Then a projector shot a simple picture of a familiar young boy up on the wall. "Do you know who this is, Ross?" Winter asked.

"Brendon Beauregard," Ryan answered, taking a deep breath. "Crown Prince and heir to the throne of Beauregia."

"Exactly," Winter answered. "Also newly appointed member of the Royal High Council, privy to every secret of his father's. And, we think, the weakest link in keeping those secrets. After all, despite all the impressive titles, we're talking about a seventeen-year-old high school student." He pressed the mouse and another picture showed on the wall, showing a large main building with two wings, all in white-washed stone surrounded by impressive, green grounds.

"Does this have anything to do with my new assignment?" Ryan asked slowly, the wheels of his minds turning just a little too quickly. He was getting dangerously close to confused.

"It certainly does," the elderly agent answered, smiling pleasantly. "While you're nowhere near high school age, you're the closest we have at twenty-four and look even younger.  With a little effort I believe we can make you fit in." He cleared his throat quickly, smile fading. "Now, the director questions your expertise but I guaranteed that you can do the job. It should be superfluous to ask you not to fail me."

"Yes, sir," Ryan muttered. "I'll do my best. So, am I to understand that you intend to send me to that school, undercover?"

"Yes," came the simple answer. "You have a week to study a file that I'll have delivered to your desk. It holds online conversations that you need to memorize, it holds Brendon Beauregard's information as well as the information and ID on your persona. Other than that, you have to purchase a wardrobe and adopt a look that would fit a teenager. And you need to start sounding more like you were brought up in England and less like you come from  _New_  England. In a week, I want you to leave Ryan Ross behind and  _be_  British exchange student Ryan Hastings."

Ryan swallowed, just slightly overwhelmed. "Uhm, yes, sir," he finally muttered.

"Further instructions are also in the file, Ross. Contacts on that side of the border, phone numbers, IP addresses, everything you may need. I believe you will also find that the papers hold the key in getting close to the prince. Dismissed."

"Yes, sir," he got out again, saluting him quickly and walking out of the office.

***

** Brendon **

In History class, Brendon sat at his respective desk with his back straight and his head held high. The teacher was rambling on about something he'd learned years ago with his Father and Brendon was pretending to listen even as he stared fixedly at a spot on the wall, his eyes clouded over. Someone kicked his foot lightly and Brendon turned, only to come face to face with one of the only people he actually liked in the school.

"Hi," he mouthed, smiling slightly. Spencer smiled back and nodded in greeting. Spencer was the son of one of Brendon's Father's councilors. The man was highly important for the King and luckily, Brendon thought the same of his son. They'd been friends, now, for years, and if there was anyone Brendon was adamant about being part of his own council, it was Spencer. The boy was intelligent, loyal, and never brash or judgmental. He took people for who they were, decided if he liked them or not, and then gave them the respect they deserved.

Spencer jerked his head to the left and Brendon followed his gaze, smiling when he saw Zach, who was standing near the door, with his head lolled to the side and his mouth agape, obviously asleep. From behind Brendon, someone chuckled, and he turned once again to smile at Jon, another of his real friends. Brendon still wasn't sure exactly what or who Jon's parents were, but he'd come to trust the other boy almost as much as he did Spencer.

The three of them had made an odd little group, rarely conversing with the other boys their age, and stuck together through the hell that was high school. Brendon grinned at both of them before turning back to the teacher and tuning into her once again as she explained just exactly who general Beauregard was (as if any one of them was ignorant enough  _not_  to know,) and Brendon caught more than a few people glancing at him; some coldly and some smiling nervously.

"As you all undoubtedly know, we have one of general Beauregard's descendants right here in our own classroom," the teacher said, smiling warmly at Brendon, "and he will be taking the throne once the time has come, provided, of course, that he marries, which I'm sure will be no problem at all, and has children who will take the throne after him," Brendon bit back a groan at her words and chose instead to smile back at her, displaying the confidence he did not feel.

*******

** Ryan **

"Are you leaving again already?" Ryan's apartment mate asked when Ryan headed back for the front door in his trainers only ten minutes after initially entering. "I ordered us Chinese and everything," he added, pointing at the small white boxes scattered over the coffee table.

"I'm sure it'll taste nearly as good after a microwave," Ryan stated, pulling his jacket down from the coat rack and putting it on. "I'm going down to the shooting range. Target practice. You should come with me, Tobe. Even if you think you're in perfect shape, I could still use some company."

"Why would you even do target practice?" Tobias asked, brow furrowed. "You've got perfect aim. It seems a bit... unnecessary, wouldn't you say?"

"I got an assignment," the younger of the two stated. "And my aim has to be better than perfect. If I get myself in trouble, backup will be miles away. Come along, dude. At least then you can tell the director you've been doing something productive with your time and perhaps he won't fire you after all."

"What?" Tobias nearly jumped out of the couch, looking scandalized. "He said he was going to do that?"

"A little more subtle and threat-like, but that was the main point of it," Ryan answered with a slight shrug. Then he signed. "If you don't want to work, why did you even join the academy in the first place?"

Tobias got off the couch, shrugging too before walking into his bedroom and reappearing a moment later, wearing a pair of sweatpants. "I guess I'm not as patriotic as I liked to think. I mean, we all want to make a difference, but all they do is stuff us behind desks and load us full of paperwork. I wasn't made for that. My papers from the academy specifically said that I was best fit to be a field agent. Not all that office shit. If I wanted to deal with politics, I'd have studied... I don't know, law or something. At least you have that advantage."

"I dropped out before my last year," Ryan reminded with a slight sigh, opening the door. "And they'll let you out. Some day. If you ever start actually showing up for work."

Tobias merely shrugged and led the way out of the apartment building.

|

Ryan Ross and Tobias Robb were about as different as could be, Tobias tall and built to Ryan's medium-height, slight frame, with blond hair to offset Ryan's dark tresses. He was also the impatient, impulsive, overeager type to Ryan's cool, thoughtful, down-to-Earth, hardworking personality with an extravagant sense of humor to Ryan's dry remarks. The one thing that had always connected them ever since they'd met in the year that was Ryan's first and Tobias' second of academy training was idealism. A love for what their country stood for and a strong will to defend it at all costs. Patriotism if you will. And after that first connection had been made, they'd slowly come to realize just how well they complimented each other and had become fast friends

Ryan was a perfectionist, with a gun as much as with everything else in his life, and he'd take his time finding the perfect aim before shooting a series of bullets in quick succession, watching them all dig into whichever part of the target he'd decided on. He was deep in concentration, eyes narrowed to slits and feet apart perfectly, the gun held out in front of him as he focused on the head of the figure two hundred feet away.

"Hey, Ry?" Tobias suddenly asked, startling the younger man out of his focus and causing the bullet to hit the target's right shoulder instead of the head, and laughed slightly. "I still sort of wonder how you'd do in an actual combat situation. Without time to concentrate and everything."

"I'd do just fine, it's simply another technique," Ryan stated with a slight frown on his face behind the protective glasses. "We trained every possible scenario at the academy, remember?"

"Of course I do," his apartment mate answered with a slight sigh. "That's not even the point, though. I was going to ask what this new assignment is. Whichever parts of it you can divulge anyway."

"It's top secret, utmost importance," the younger male started. Then he rolled his eyes. "And it really kind of sucks. Firstly, how do you even say 'Hastings' with a British accent? Is it...  _Haiii_ stings or something like that?"

"I'd put a little less pressure on the first syllable if I were you," Tobias suggestion with a hint of a laugh, loading his gun quickly. "I have all the Miss Marple movies back home. And Mr. Bean. You should watch those. Name aside, what's the big problem?"

Ryan sighed, sucking in a deep breath. "Listen, high school sucked, okay? I was this gangly, clumsy, underdeveloped geek who was way too smart for anyone to like him. The closest thing I got to a date was the girl actually knowing my name when she laughed at me after her boyfriend tripped me in the lunch line. There's a reason besides academic records that I graduated early, all right? I really don't want to go through that again."

"Newsflash," the older male said with a hint of a grin. "You aren't sixteen anymore. You're twenty-four. And while you're still kind of gangly, I think you left 'clumsy' behind at the academy. You're still too smart for your own good, but underdeveloped... I think not. Really, Ry, if I swung that way..."

The younger of the two gave a loud groan. "Please, Tobe, do not finish that sentence. Do not even think about finishing that sentence."

Tobias burst out laughing for a moment before gaining back his composure. "The point is, this is an assignment, but it's also your second chance. We'll change your style a bit, get you a new haircut and some proper clothes and the girls will be following you around by the dozen."

Ryan sent him a skeptical look. "It's an all boys' school," he stated dryly, turning back to his gun and taking just a few seconds to find his aim before pumping a bullet straight into the left side of the target's chest.

"The boys then, I guess," Tobias offered, shrugging.

"And there's a mandatory uniform," the younger man added rolling his eyes again and sending another bullet flying through the room, hitting bull's eye in the imaginary heart of the paper figure.

"You can't wear that all the time," Tobias stated. "Anyway, if you're going to be so dead-set against me I'm going to home to finish my Chinese. Want to come?"

"I'll be there in a bit," Ryan promised, reloading. He didn't watch as his friend left, simply pumped another magazine into the target.

Really, though, the concerns he'd expressed were far from his worst. He'd been instructed to get close to the Prince at all costs, and after just skimming the first few of the Internet conversations, he knew which card to play. That didn't mean he liked it, though. Even though he lacked experience with girls - first given the fact that they'd found him unattractive and later on because he simply didn't have time whether it was because he was focused on Harvard Law or later, after dropping out before his last year, on the academy or his work for the bureau - he knew that he was straight. He was perfectly comfortable being straight. The thing was, though, that judging by some parts of the instruction papers he'd been given, not to mention those conversations, hinted that the Prince may not be. They also hinted that perhaps he was more likely to grow to confide in a lover than in a friend. 'At all costs' had gotten an entirely new meaning.

Ryan's acting had always been mediocre at best, and now he suddenly had to get into a persona who was not only young and spoke in an accent he was hardly familiar with. There were also areas in which Ryan Hastings had to be everything Ryan Ross wasn't.

***

** Brendon **

English Literature was, without question, Brendon's most preferred course. In the palace, there were several rooms filled with books, from the floor to the ceiling, all perfectly placed in shelves of dark mahogany wood, undisturbed. It had taken Brendon all of three years (starting when he was thirteen, and ending the summer after his sixteenth birthday) to finish only one of those rooms. The room in question had been carefully chosen, as it contained the easiest books and the most interesting subjects. Authors had varied from Edgar Allan Poe, to Shakespeare, to Charles Dickens. From William S. Burroughs and Jack Kerouac to Mark Twain and Oscar Wilde. The only reason Brendon had deemed this room 'easy', was because every other room had books on modern politics, or History and Geography; which, admittedly, was not something Brendon was interested in.

He'd spent all of his free time those three years lounging around in the room and reading. His favorites included The Adventures of Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn, The Fall of The House Of Usher, and Measure for Measure. He frequently saw plays that he had read before in books, and even one's that he'd never read. This discovery of his love for English Literature came as a happy surprise for his Father, who was a strong believer that many of these books could help him even in the real world.

Though Brendon was happy about being able to take both English and Creative Writing as a course, he could scarcely wait until he was in University and could take courses on English Literature that would actually let him explore his love of books all the more.

Of course, the only thing that bothered Brendon about his Creative Writing elective was the fact that everything he wrote was like letting someone judge the way he thought and what he believed. He found it difficult to express his feelings on paper, forever trying to hide real events behind intricate story lines about debauchery and the sarcastic nature of his characters. Often times, his teachers had trouble reading between the lines for the carefully hidden truths and morals. This year, he doubted it would be any different.

Upon entering the slightly clustered classroom, Brendon immediately scanned it for someone he liked. He knew for a fact that neither Spencer nor Jon had taken this class, for they both thought that it was a waste of time. Brendon had scolded them, repeating his father's words of how important Classic Literature was, because of all the symbolism and themes that mirrored real life. They'd both shrugged him off without a care. In the end, they'd both taken Philosophy.

  
Taking a seat near the front of the class, Brendon sighed as he let his binder hit the small desk and sat down on the plastic chair, surveying his surroundings once again. When someone came walking into the classroom, briskly making their way in his direction, Brendon saw Zach tense and narrow his eyes, watching and waiting. His classmate, however, walked right by him and took a seat near the window, turning to look at Zach in surprise when he realized what had happened. Finally, the boy turned to the front and rolled his eyes, mumbling something about a spoiled brat. Nobody laughed, or even smiled, but Brendon could tell that many in the class shared this young man's opinion. He put on his best look of indifference and turned back to the front.

"As you all may know, we were chosen to be the class in charge of making a journal that will represent the year for all who are graduating. The journal, first brought to light only five years ago, has been a tradition in this school since it was first published, and every graduating class has treasured it dearly," the teacher started talking as soon as he entered the classroom, formal introductions completely forgotten, or, never considered. Brendon looked to the door and followed the man's way in, giving him a calculated look.

Marc O'Connor, graduated from one of the most prestigious Universities in England, he'd done his doctorate with a major in journalism and minor in English lit. Worked for a newspaper for ten years after graduating at the age of 26, wrote several books on the How To's of writing and criticizing. Very respected, very young, very ambitious. He'd taken a job at the boarding school the year he'd turned 36 because he'd wanted to, in his own words, relax. Brendon had wanted to be in one of his classes since he'd gathered all this information, and now his dream was coming true.

He straightened his posture (not that it was needed) and listened intently to what the teacher was saying. "It is meant to be something memorable, something to commemorate the bright young men who will be leaving us. These will be poems, stories, and sonnets that everyone- or most everyone- can relate to. I trust you all know what this means; you are, after all, the bright young men in question and I do hope you all know what you like," the teacher winked and grinned at the class, and a few of the pupils chuckled politely, Brendon included. "The journal will be started right away. Each person in this class has, as an assignment, to write something to put into this journal every two days. Preferably you should write about real events, real feelings, and real people. You are doing this for yourselves and for your peers. I want some effort put into it. I will be picking up your first contribution in two days, correcting them, and giving them back. You are all responsible for anything that is lost from here until the end of the year. Now, onto other things..."

***

** Ryan **

_Sometimes I just feel like the whole world is watching, waiting for me to slip up, you know? To finally prove that I'm not this perfect person that I've been made out to be. And a part of me can't wait for that to happen. But at the same time, I know I'd do anything to prevent it._

_I think that's perfectly normal for someone our age. I mean, honestly, no one is ever who they make themselves out to be. We all wear masks because we're all equally afraid of everyone's reaction to who we really are. And it's stupid, but everyone does it. But I guess it must be even worse for you. I mean, religious family and a secret like yours. Damn._

_You have absolutely no idea. Shit, I'm going to be late for class. I'll talk to you later, okay? And thanks._

_Anytime._

Ryan was startled out of his concentrated scanning of the papers spread out in front of him when Tobias barged into his bedroom without as much as looking. "What?" he asked, looking up with an annoyed look on his face.

"Sorry dude, just-" The older man sighed. "God, are you still pining over those files? You've been at it for days now. You could do that at the office, you know. And I'm pretty sure they didn't give you the day off with a limitless international credit card just so you could keep reading."

"Tobe, I'm trying to get this done with," Ryan stated with a groan. "I only have thirty pages or so left to go, and then I need to work some more on my accent. I only have three days left, you know?"

"I do know," Tobias agreed. "But I think I've also got a pretty good idea on Hasting's character by now, and no accent is going to help you if you keep looking like a white-collar guy in his early twenties. You don't look a bit like Ryan Hastings should."

Ryan let out another groan, mainly for good measure, but obliged, putting the papers aside. "Then what are your suggestions?"

Tobias reached for Ryan's shoulder, getting a grip and tugging the smaller man with him into the bathroom. "First off, I think I've already mentioned the hair," he stated, pointing at the neatly combed back locks. "So uncool, Ross." He reached out and grabbed a comb, wetting it slightly under the tap, and ran it through Ryan's hair until it was falling into forehead and eyes, neatly parted in the right side and tumbling down to the middle of his ears in light waves. "You may want to think about getting your hands on a straightener, though."

Ryan reached up and touched his hair carefully, frowning slightly in distaste. "It's getting in my eyes, Tobe. I hate this."

"Are you an office stiff or a third generation rich kid from England who's about to attend high school and have the time of his life? Have the time of his life in a stylish manner, by the way."

The younger man narrowed his eyes slightly. "I'm not even going to answer that," he stated, but sighed slightly. "Whatever, I'll leave the hair be." And suddenly he saw the pencil being rolled back and forth between his counterpart's fingers, and his hazel eyes widened in shock. "Tobias Adrian Robb! No, I'm not wearing that!" Then he paused, blinking slightly. "Why do you even have eyeliner in the first place?"

"Remember my ex Janie?" Tobias inquired. "She left it here and hasn't picked it up. Hence, I've claimed ownership. And George Ryan Ross the Third," he continued, a bit of a mocking tone to his voice now. "You are definitely wearing that. Hasting's got to emit a "gay vibe", okay? Makeup is the easiest way of doing that, according to teenagers. Go through your life story while I do this if it makes you feel better."

Ryan took a deep breath, suppressing his growing annoyance as he regretfully admitted, silently of course, that Tobias may just be right and that even if he weren't, he was physically stronger. "I was born in Dover in southern England on August thirtieth, nineteen eighty nine. I'm now seventeen, turning eighteen later this year." He cringed slightly, blinking a little as the pencil came a bit too close to stabbing out his eye. "I'm the son of Daniel Hastings Junior and Andrea Hastings, né Wallace. I'm also heir to Hastings Industries which was founded by my grandfather in fifty-six and has made our family rich. I'm an only child who was raised in my hometown of Dover until age eight when I went away to prep school, or public school as we, oddly enough, say in England. I've transferred here from what may be the most prestigious school in England because... I wanted to see how life was in a country so different from my own?"

"Now, if only you could say that and actually sound British," Tobias said with a sigh, finally pulling back a little. "Aw, aren't you a pretty one? You'll have to learn how to put it on on your own, though." With that said he quickly slipped the kohl pencil into Ryan's front pocket before patting the younger man's hair.

Ryan sighed and looked at the mirror, frowning slightly at the sight of the black lines around his eyes, his hair hanging down far enough to nearly cover it, at least on the left side of his face. "This looks so weird." Then he rolled his eyes slightly. "But if you like the makeup and everything so much, why can't you just ask for the assignment?" He knew it was a stupid question, and that you couldn't just go around swapping missions, but still... He was sort of miserable about this one. Excited, but miserable.

Tobias let out a slight chuckle. "I, at best, look twenty-one or twenty-two," he stated. "Somehow age has left you unscathed, and you can definitely pull the seventeen-year-old thing off. We still have to get you clothes, though."

The younger male couldn't hold back yet another groan.

|

"Hey, hey, hey," Ryan grumbled, shrugging Tobias' hand off his arm. "Why are we in the women's part of here?" he asked on, looking around him with a frown. "Seriously, isn't makeup feminine enough to fit whatever stereotype you're going for?"

"I'm not sure when the last time you bought anything but suits, ties and cotton shirts was, much less anything form-fitting," his friend said. "But you're sort of tiny, and if you want anything to be tight, it's either this or children's department. And your arms and legs are too long for that. Don't worry, though, it's just jeans and hoodies." And as if to underline that statement, he threw an armful of jeans at Ryan. "Changing room's over there. I'll bring you more in a moment."

Ryan grumbled and walked towards said changing rooms hesitantly.

***

** Brendon **

Brendon sat at his desk, chewing on the end of his pen. He was reading and rereading his contribution to The Journal. He had to give it in when he got to class tomorrow and he had a sinking feeling that this would only cause him shame. Now, he didn't even have the comfort of knowing that only the teacher would be reading his most personal thoughts; by the end of the year, every student in his grade would have a copy to show to their friends and laugh about it.

Sighing in frustration, Brendon shook his head and muttered under his breath inaudibly. He jumped when someone knocked on his bedroom door and looked over his shoulder, watching Zach open the door and let Spencer and Jon through.

"Hello, my frustrated ami," Spencer said, clapping Brendon on the shoulder once he was close enough, and then sitting down on the boy's bed. Brendon frowned, looking up at Jon questioningly.

"Spencer's taking French as a Foreign Language. Now he knows all of three words," Jon explained, shrugging and ruffling Spencer's hair like he was some sort of small animal. Brendon chuckled, shaking his head, while Spencer huffed and rolled his eyes.

"I know more than three words. Bonjour, comment allez vous?, tu es mon ami, je t'aime de tout mon coeur, Jon est un con..." Spencer trailed off, smiling proudly. Despite his accent being thicker than molasses and mispronouncing a few words, Brendon nodded and congratulated his friend.

"You're right," Brendon said, smirking, "Jon is an idiot!"

"Hey! No insulting in languages that some of us can't understand! It's not fair play," Jon announced, cuffing Spencer on the side of the head. Spencer let himself fall back onto the bed, bouncing up slightly on the mattress from the force of it. He stared up at Brendon's ceiling for a few minutes before sighing and looking over at Brendon.

"What are you working on?" he asked, propping himself up on the elbows. Brendon looked down at the paper in his hands and sneered at it. Not only was it boring, because nothing of importance had happened yet, but it also kind of made Brendon want to throw up. He couldn't give this in! What would people think!?

Sensing the silent battle, Jon snatched the paper from Brendon's hands and read it, all the while holding it out of Brendon's grasp when he tried to take it back, whining that it was bad and stupid and shouldn't be read. When Jon had finished the short paragraph, he looked back at Brendon, bewildered.

"What the hell does this even..?" he trailed off, frowning. Brendon jut out his bottom lip, refusing to answer. Rolling his eyes, Jon read it over another time, shaking his head all the while. "The only words I understand in here are befuddled, which is a really  _gay_  way of saying confused," Jon chuckled, "and dejected. What the hell are you writing this for? Are you not telling us something?" Jon looked over at Brendon suspiciously, his eyes narrowed. Brendon rolled his own eyes and shook his head.

"Mr. O'Connor asked us to write... something dark and sad, so... that's what came out. It's not like I really feel any of these things!" Brendon scoffed, looking away from his friends. Jon smiled widely and shook his head.

"Right... whatever you say, Brendon." Jon chuckled, throwing the paper onto the desk. He launched himself onto the bed (thought more than half of his body landed on Spencer) and snorted when Spencer complained shrilly that he was being squished. Brendon smiled as he watched his best friends swat each other, both their legs dangling off the sides of his bed.

"How the hell did I become friends with you people?" Brendon asked, one perfectly shaped eyebrow raised. Jon rolled his eyes and Spencer attempted to kick him.

"If you weren't such an insufferable ass, you might make some more friends, you know," Spencer pointed out, shrugging one shoulder. Jon turned his face into the pillow and nodded his agreement, causing Brendon to huff loudly and shake his own head.

"I don't trust anyone else," he explained, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "And, on top of that, anyone else would probably sell any and all of my secrets in a heartbeat. But, I suppose that doesn't matter much since everybody already makes up lies about me." Brendon sighed, sliding down in the chair and lifting his feet to set them on the desk for support.

"That doesn't mean you can't trust anyone, Brendon. I mean. When you care about someone, you choose to believe that you can trust them... I don't think you've ever told me a secret. At least, not something that was of utmost importance. In fact, I don't think I've ever heard you utter the words, "don't tell anyone, but..." and that saddens me. That's what fucking adolescence is all about! Stupid, little, secrets." Spencer had propped up on of the pillows against the wall and was now sitting on the bed with his hands clasped in his lap.

Brendon rolled his eyes and sighed, "none of my secrets are stupid or little, unfortunately."

"What about when you fall in love? Your wife? Surely your Father shares everything with your mother!" Spencer pointed, eyes wide.

"Yeah! And aren't you supposed to be looking for a wife? Or at least some candidates?" Jon put in, grinning deviously. Brendon wrinkled his nose and shook his head quickly. "What? Still think girls are yucky?" Jon snickered to himself.

"No! I just... No one is good enough..." Brendon said. Spencer rolled his eyes and snorted, but chose not to say anything more.

***

** Ryan **

"One of my last days of freedom and you already force me to wear this," Ryan grumbled, looking down himself again. In place of the suit he'd grown so used to over the years, or even the trainers or basketball shorts and loose t-shirts he'd lounge around in every now and then, was a pair of annoyingly tight, dark-washed jeans that clashed sort of horribly with the winter coat he was used to wearing with his normal clothes. And he was wearing sneakers! He hadn't worn sneakers since high school. Both he and Tobias were already carrying several bags, and according to the older of the two they were nowhere near done. "These jeans are cutting off circulation."

"I just want to see if it works," Tobias protested, pouting slightly, and Ryan almost had to laugh at the pathetic face he was being presented with. "Now, can I have some accent please?" he continued before leading the way into another store. A designer store, Ryan realized, sort of delayed. And he was about to head straight back out, but the sale's lady was already almost all the way over. "Hello," Tobias greeted. "This is my cousin, Ryan, who's visiting from England. Sadly he lost most of his luggage somewhere along the way, and we need a new wardrobe. Mainly shirts and accessories. Belts, hats, you know. He could use a nice couple of jackets too."

Ryan looked around him, feeling sort of intimidated by the nearly hysterically clean interior of the store, by the brand names he didn't recognize and the strange music that was playing in the background. He leaned in slightly so he was close enough to Tobias that he could whisper. "Why designer, asshole?"

"One," his friend answered. "It has to be something you could get anywhere in the world. Two, rich people like to show off." Then he turned his attention back to the sale's lady. "No, no, no. That's way too masculine. Not Ryan's style at all."

"Well, Ryan," the woman said with a wide, fake smile on her face. "What  _do_  you like?"

As he glared at Tobias he was really sort of annoyed that no one had invented death rays yet.

|

"Tobe, I don't get why this all has to be so feminine," Ryan stated, a slight edge of exasperation in his voice, as he pointed down to the pink and flowery shopping bags at their feet. Five minutes earlier he'd insisted they take a break, which was why they now found themselves in a nice little coffee shop. "I mean, sure, you let me get one suit, Gucci, but a suit nonetheless, a few dress pants, like two fucking  _silk_  shirts and two blazers. Everything else is women's clothing."

"First off," Tobias said, smiling brightly as he took a sip of his espresso, "you have to promise me you aren't going to lounge around in those clothes. Special occasions only, you hear me kid?" Upon receiving a groan and a nod, he continued, "And secondly, the reason for the girls' clothing is stereotypes. Firstly, rich kids tend to either be all macho, masculine, sporty guys, or they're as preppy as the girls. Secondly, Ryan Hastings is gay, and I know not all gay guys are androgynous or anything like that, but according to the stereotype they are, which means that by living up to people's expectations, you draw a lot less of the bad attention to yourself, a lot less suspicion. It's stupid, but that's how it is."

Ryan gave his thousandth sigh of the day and brought his cup to his lips, getting a nice, sweetened mouthful of cappuccino. "I get that, but it still bugs me." Then he let out a deep breath, rolling his eyes slightly. "How much more do we have to get done?"

"Socks," Tobias answered. "Pajamas. Underwear. I'm thinking Dolce briefs, perhaps some Calvin Klein too."

"I understand the top layer," the younger man stated. "Really, I do. But what does it matter what I'm wearing underneath it? No one's going to see that."

"They are," the blond informed. "In a gym class, or because your shirt rode up and your jeans down or, well, for other reasons. It's stupid to assume no one will ever see your underwear, which in turn makes it stupid to wear whatever you found on sale at Sears, especially since Sears doesn't exist in England. So stop complaining."

Ryan rolled his eyes once more but nodded tiredly, surrendering. "What else?"

"Makeup, bedsheets, fragrances. I'll buy you some posters, movies, CDs and whatever else. Office promised to Photoshop you some family photos."

"I don't even want to know  _how_  you've got all this under control. You're like a professional super shopper or something."

"Well," Tobias answered with a grin. "Before you were recruited, you were wasting your time studying law. Me, I was at NYCU studying fashion and design."

"And then you decided to become a federal agent," Ryan finished. "Somehow I'm not as surprised as I think I ought to be. Are you sure you-"

"Don't even think it."

***

** Brendon **

"Brendon!"

Looking up from his binder, Brendon swallowed, averting his gaze from left to right before letting it land, once again, on Mr. O'Connor. "Yes?" He asked, looking and sounding more confident than he really was.

"May I see you after class?" he asked, gathering some papers on his desk and making them into a neat pile. Brendon frowned, then sat up straighter and held his head high.

"Of course, sir. I trust everything is all right?"

"Yes, yes. I just have a few questions for you." When the teacher smiled, Brendon allowed himself to breathe normally again and smiled restrainedly. It always amazed him how slowly time passed when one was looking forward to something, no matter if it was good or bad. He spent most of this lesson watching the clock and sighing inaudibly. Finally, when the last bell rang and everyone had filed out of the classroom, Brendon stood from his desk and waited for his teacher to talk.

"I wanted to ask you about your journal entry," Mr. O'Connor started, looking up briefly at Brendon and smiling. "I'm not quite sure what exactly I expected, but this is definitely not it." Brendon nodded at his words, bracing himself for the worst. "Yes, definitely somewhat of a shock, but... somehow, it makes perfect sense. I just wanted to tell you that I enjoyed it very much. It felt real to me, raw with emotion. I didn't even think you'd have enough guts to submit something like this, pardon my obvious ignorance."

  
Brendon smiled uneasily and bit his lip, looking away momentarily. "Anyway," the man continued, not noticing Brendon's uneasiness, "I just wanted to tell you to keep it up. I know that being your age is hard, which means that being in your position must make it that much harder. Just... don't stop something on account of what others might think."

These seemed to be the last words, because the teacher turned back to his desk and didn't look back. Scrambling for his things, Brendon quickly left the classroom and headed to his room.

_They say that we have no reason to feel lost and dejected. We are living without a care in the world, and everyone must take care of us, for we cannot do it ourselves. If only it were the truth._

_When everyday is a new battle, with the same people and the same restrictions. When none of us can express what we truly feel for fear of being ridiculed, or worse, ignored. When the impossible is expected from the same people who are treated as inferior. How can they say that we have no right to feel befuddled and angry? Helpless and hopeless and sad?_

_We do not want recognition; we know that we are not the firsts to have felt so utterly abandoned in the limelight, and set up to fail. We do not want stale words of apology falling from sneering lips. We want only understanding. We want only for them to remember what it was like and to admit that, yes, perhaps they recognize these emotions we are forever showing._

_And yet we want so much. Our demands and needs and desires are **too**  much. But what of their demands? What am  **I**  to do when I must take on the responsibility of my whole world and weigh it on my shoulders? These demands and needs and desires will be fulfilled, because they must. But who is helping us to cope with it all?_

***

** Ryan **

"Tomorrow morning," Winter instructed. "You are to take a plane from J.F.K. to Heathrow. This route is obviously longer, but it's easier to get from Europe to Beauregia than from New York City, and it'll throw people off your trail, even put the right tags on your suitcases. From Heathrow you take the plane to Miami, where you check into the Dalton Hotel. You are to stay in your room for the rest of the day as well as the night, when another agent of ours will find you and give you your necessary equipment. Laptop, weapons, encrypting and decrypting devices, papers, surveillance equipment, anything you may need. The following morning, you will take a cab, and it will take you to the school where you are set to arrive in the evening. Are you with me so far?"

"Yes, sir," Ryan answered, looking down at his new passport and travel papers. The photo inside was one Tobias had taken for him on their shopping trip a few days earlier, and in Ryan's opinion it stunk. Inside it, the name  _Ryan Andrew Hastings_  was printed along with all the other little pieces of personal information he had learnt over the last week. Suddenly everything had gone from being some vague, strange thing looming ahead to something tangible. His near future. And he couldn't help but to be scared and excited all at once.

"At the school we've gotten you a single room. They're slightly more expensive than the doubles, but you need your privacy for some of the things in your luggage," the elderly agent continued. "You need to hide everything immediately, and you need to hide it well. You're entering a country that has been under martial law for nearly a century and a half. There's no such thing as a warrant or a fair trial. If the police feel like searching your room, they can. And if they find anything, you'll be dead or in jail, no questions asked. Unless they feel like using torture to find out your exact mission. Is that understood, Ross?"

Ryan nodded again. "Sir, yes, sir."

"If you are caught, do what you can to save yourself. It won't take a genius to figure out why you're there anyway. But you may under no circumstances reveal the appearances or identities of any man or woman on our side who is still in Beauregia. Clear?"

"Of course, sir," Ryan mumbles, swallowing slightly.

"Get a good night's sleep, Ryan," Winter finally suggested. "God's speed. Come back to us in one piece."


	2. Chapter 2

Standing outside the massive, white building everything seemed to finally hit him like a ton of bricks. It was clearly the same building he'd seen in photos of the school, but up close it looked more intimidating than beautiful. And he was scared. Scared about the mission, scared of the things it may end up requiring of him. He couldn't afford to be, though; in the middle of everything, fear was nothing but an unnecessary distraction that kept him from living up to his potential.  
   
On his father's side, Ryan was from a military family. Navy, to be exact. His father was a retired SEAL, as were his two uncles, and his grandfather had been too. Several of his cousins were stationed all over the world with the navy as well; two of them SEALS themselves already. Every man in his family had been involved in the military ever since the Separation War and he'd been expected to follow those same footsteps. Sadly, Ryan's physique and, at times, frail health didn't allow this. Instead he'd ended up at the bureau, and he had yet to make his family understand that what he was doing was just as, if not more, important than what the Navy SEALS accomplished.  
   
This was his chance; that was what he had to keep reminding himself. This was his shot at proving that what he was doing was enough, that  _he_  was good enough. This was also his chance to do something potentially great for his country, to serve like he'd been raised to. This was his great war to fight; not with the means his family usually approved of, hopefully not with weaponry or force, but this was still it.  
   
He took a deep breath and heaved up his suitcases, walking up the driveway's crunching stones and up the wide staircase until he reached the doors. They were closed for the evening and he was unsure whether he should knock or do  _something_  or if he was supposed to simply walk inside. After a few moments' contemplation, he decided on the latter.  
   
The door was heavy in his grip, but he managed to maneuver himself and both suitcases through and found himself in what looked like a large hall. Doors and stairs seemed to be leading away in all different directions. The walls were a pleasant cream color with paintings and pictures decorating them and chandeliers were hung from the ceiling. The floor seemed to be solid grey stone, and Ryan's footsteps echoed through the room as he crossed it.  
   
There were people huddled here and there, just a few boys between the ages of eleven and eighteen, chattering amongst themselves, but no one really made any move to approach him. People should give the place warmth, make it something that was easier for him to take in, but instead they somehow made it even more intimidating. He swallowed that feeling, though, biting his lip as he reached what looked like the middle of the high-ceilinged room where he stopped walking, putting the suitcases down. He honestly had no idea where to go from there.  
   
Five minutes or so later he was put out of his misery when a stern-looking man who looked to be somewhere in his forties, with greying hair, a thin mustache and thick glasses showed up, looking him up and down in distaste that was so well guarded that Ryan probably wouldn't have picked up on it if he hadn't been trained for things like that. "Mr. Hastings, I assume," the man started, cocking one thick eyebrow. Upon receiving a nod he managed a smile that really only made him look scarier. "I'm Mr. Brown, the boarding inspector on duty tonight. Welcome to Saint Francis of Assisi's Academy for Boys."  
   
"Thank you, sir," Ryan answered, reaching out to shake the man's hand. "Ryan Hastings," he added, although the man already seemed to know this minor detail. When Mr. Brown took his hand, he remembered, last minute, to loosen it a little. A handshake said a lot about a person, and he wasn't supposed to be a confident young man here. He was supposed to be a possibly cocky, spoilt, rich boy.  
   
"We have a simple set of rules here," Mr. Brown continued. "Anyone should be able to appreciate them. I'll let you study them yourself, and then you can ask any member of the staff if you have questions." He pushed a small folder and a key into Ryan's hands, stern look on his face. "Key is for your dorm room. Breakfast is at seven thirty to eight fifteen, classes commence at eight thirty. Lunch is at twelve and dinner at seven. We do not tolerate tardiness nor do we accept skipping class. Your uniform is in your room, and it must be worn for meals, classes and mass, which is at ten every morning, weekends included. Since you came in the middle of the school year teachers are likely to cut you a bit of slack, but we expect you to catch up quickly. You can always ask your classmates for help."  
   
"Thank you, sir," Ryan replied, nodding slightly to indicate that he understood while he struggled to get the folder to go into the pocket of his all-too-tight jeans. The key was a little easier, and after a few moments both items were inside, the key digging into his flesh slightly. And as crazy as that may sound, he really couldn't wait to get into his uniform.  
   
The frown on the man's face seemed to grow deeper, giving his whole appearance a darker tint, and Ryan had to force himself not to shudder slightly. He was an academy trained federal agent. He should be above getting scared by high school teachers, dammit. "Where is that Walker?"

  
Rounding a corner, Jon jogged passed students and teachers alike, intent on getting to where he needed to be without any distractions. Rounding yet another corner, he jumped over someone's discarded binder and finally skidded to a stop near Mr. Brown. He looked from the old teacher to the boy he was talking to and frowned slightly, then smirked. Oh, this was going to be good. New students meant Jon got to grill some unsuspecting kid for all he was worth and possibly make him just a little bit apprehensive about the school. He loved seeing the fear he could create in some poor guy's eyes. Upon seeing this lanky teenager, Jon had no doubt that he would be easy to frighten.  
  
"You asked to see me, sir?" Jon asked, making his presence known. The old man turned to look at him, eyes narrowed ever so slightly, and Jon had to stop himself from laughing. He looked over at the new student and raised his eyebrows expectantly. "Who's this?" he inquired, motioning towards the boy, who seemed to be sixteen, if not younger. A really tall fourteen year old, perhaps. Jon shrugged and looked back to Mr. Brown, waiting for an answer.  
  
"This, Mr. Walker, and I would advise you to remember your manners, is Ryan Andrew Hastings. He has come to us from England and I trust you will be nice enough to show this young man to his room, and walk him to all of his classes, so that he can get acquainted with his new home. His room number is three, Mr. Walker, I'm sure that will be easy enough for you to find... Now, go on. I don't want you two dawdling in the hallways any longer."  
  
Once Mr. Brown was gone, Jon looked back at Ryan and grinned. He stuck out his hand for Ryan to shake, "Jonathan Walker, at your service. Ryan Hastings, is it? Lovely. Whereabouts in England are you from, then?" he asked, and started to walk, looking back at Ryan as the other boy took up stride beside him.  
  
"Dover," Ryan answered, struggling slightly with the bags. No matter how much training he'd gone through back at the academy, heavy lifting had just never become his thing. "In the south," he added. "Right down by the Canal. You can see France from my room."  
  
Jon nodded, looking thoughtful. He made a little appreciative sound and continued, "really? That's awesome," he said, his voice slightly sarcastic. He smirked to himself as he looked away from Ryan momentarily. "What does your father do?"  
  
"He's in business," Ryan answered with a slight shrug. "He's the CEO of my grandfather's company, really, so it was sort of always in the cards." He was finding it hard to really sound believable. Acting had never been his strong trait, and it was difficult to avoid sounding like he was just listing facts someone had made him learn from a sheet of paper. There was something about the other boy that irked him, though, but at the same time also made him feel slightly more comfortable. Something told him that this Jon character really didn't care about his answers at all, was just trying to get to him or something. So perhaps he needn't really be as careful as he'd feared, not with this guy anyway.  
  
Jon hummed and had to resist from stroking his chin in thought. He nodded, rounded another corner and led the way to a stairwell. "Sounds exciting," Jon said, not sounding like he meant it at all. He looked over at Ryan and studied him for a few seconds. "How old are you, anyway? Fifteen?"  
  
"Seventeen," Ryan corrected, a little more force in his voice than actually intended. For some reason he'd always hated having people look down on him, especially for his age. A large part of him really just wanted to spit 'twenty-four' out into the face of the boy, but he held back. One kid bugging him wasn't really a proper reason to blow the assignment. And that, he reminded himself, was all Jon Walker was. Some snotty, spoilt _kid_.  
  
Jon snorted, not even trying to cover it up, and took the steps two at a time, one hand supporting him on the railing. "Guess you'll be in some of my classes, then. Which ones are you taking?" When they arrived at the double doors leading to the living quarters, Jon seized the handle and opened the heavy door, waiting for Ryan to walk through. After that, they started walking down the narrow hallway, Jon checking the numbers on the doors as they went by.  
  
"Creative Writing," Ryan started, picking up his pace slightly to keep up while he hoisted up his bags a little. Those things seriously were a little too heavy for his taste. He'd have to find some way to get back at Tobias for making him buy and bring too much clothes. "History," he continued. "English lit, science, math, Latin, Spanish and social studies. At least as far as I remember. I could be wrong about a couple of them."  
  
Jon nodded, taking a right at the end of the hallway, and waving to someone he didn't know as they happened to walk by, eyeing Ryan curiously. "Can I ask you why the hell you moved here?" he finally asked after a few minutes of silence. He didn't want to be rude, except, well... he kind of did.  
  
"Well, along with my parents, I decided that I should go abroad and see another part of the world. It's more educational that way, really, and I decided to come here because it's a country that's so different from my own and yet has a lot of the same principles. I thought it could be interesting," Ryan answered, narrowly refraining from rolling his eyes. By now there wasn't really any way the guy wasn't just trying to be annoying. Well, that, or something was sort of wrong about his feel for situations, but he really didn't strike Ryan as that kind of a boy. Smart, but out to have a bit of fun at someone else's expense.  
  
Jon snickered at the absurd (to him, anyway) answer. "Right..." he said, taking yet another sharp turn to the right. It almost seemed as though they were going in circles. "Don't you miss any of your friends, though? You did have friends, right?" he looked over at Ryan with interest that seemed almost genuine and waited expectantly for an answer that wouldn't make him laugh.  
  
"Yeah, of course I do, but they'll be there when I get home as well, and I have my phone and my computer, so I can stay in touch. I mean, the Internet has been invented over here by now, right?" Ryan asked, eyes growing just a tad harder. He was starting to really dislike this kid. And the fact that it looked like they were taking the long road everywhere. The bags were starting to hurt his shoulders and he'd really rather not carry them for longer than necessary.  
  
Jon nodded, "yeah, Internet access is one thing we do have, fortunately. So, why do you have a single room? I mean, not only are they more expensive, but they're usually saved for someone who needs... extra protection, you know?" he asked, walking down the last hallway. Room number three was at the end of the hallway, right near Brendon's, and his and Spencer's room, as well.  
  
"I've been to boarding schools pretty much all the time since I was seven," Ryan answered, the lie slipping out easily and without him really caring. It didn't really matter anymore, but somehow he was surprised by how quickly it was starting to feel natural. "I came here more or less straight from Eton where we had to share dorms, and I was going out of my mind, really. I guess I just need to have my privacy and be able to be alone sometimes or I go crazy, and the money really isn't an issue."  
  
"Makes sense," Jon said, nodding to himself once again. They arrived in front of Ryan's room and he shrugged. "Well, you seem like a pretty okay guy. Here's one last question before I go; Have you ever met royalty?" he asked, his voice a loud whisper as he glanced around even though they were completely alone.  
  
Ryan was more than just a little tempted to ask just what kind of a question that was. "I think in my first year at Eton, Prince Harry was in his last, so I sort of saw him around in hallways and at meals and such, but I never actually talked to him," he answered instead, shrugging as best as he could with the bags. He swore his arms had to have grown under the weight. "That's pretty much it. And you seem good enough too. Was nice to meet you." Biggest lie of the evening, but oh well.  
  
Jon chuckled and winked. "You're sleeping right next to Brendon, by the way. So if you see a really big guy in a suit outside that door," he pointed to the door right across from Ryan's, the gold 'four' gleaming under the artificial lights, "don't be afraid. He'll only kill you if you go near Brendon." Jon grinned widely before bowing his head in Ryan's direction and spinning on his heels, practically skipping to his own room, only a few doors down.  
  
Ryan shook his head slightly at the disappearing boy, not quite understanding where the excess energy came from. But then again, Jonathan Walker hadn't had to carry two very heavy bags for the duration of their walk. Remembering the bags, he put them down on the floor and wriggled his hand back into his jeans-pocket, pulling out papers and - score! - his room key. He put it in the lock, twisted it and opened the door effortlessly.  
  
The room he entered was plain at best. The walls were plain and off-white and seemed to, except for the crucifix hanging over the desk, be for the students to decorate. There were two windows with navy curtains and in the corner was a bare bed with what seemed to be his uniform on top of it. The dark blue carpet matched the curtains and felt soft and expensive even beneath his shoes. The room may be plain, but it was still clear that the sons of the richest people in the country lived in this school.  
  
Between the large windows a large, dark, wooden desk was stood, a comfortable-looking office chair in front of it. By the foot of his bed was a dresser and a small distance away was a chest of drawers and a bookcase. In the other end of the room was a small coffee table, a sofa and a chair, all of it kept in dark wood and navy to match the rest of the room. Ryan guessed this feature was part of a single room: a small living corner instead of an extra bed.  
  
There was a door too, other than the simple entrance door he'd already closed and locked behind him and his bags, and upon further inspection he could conclude that it led into a small but nicely equipped bathroom. The off-white walls were already cutting into his eyes, and he had the feeling that they had the ability to make him go crazy over time. And thus he actually found himself grateful for the posters Tobias had equipped him with.  
  
Ryan spent the next hour or so unpacking. First he found the best place to hide his most suspicious gadgets (bottom drawer of the chest. If he took the handle off and put the drawer back in backwards it sort of looked like there was no drawer at all, unless you decided you needed to look really close). Then came the bed linens, and the clothes, most of them quite unfamiliar to him still, went into dresser and drawers. He lined his shoes neatly by the door and put the few books and CDs he'd brought or been made to bring in the bookcase. Then the manipulated photos of himself and his 'family' went sort of everywhere, just stood or hung wherever they looked like they'd fit, as many of them visible as possible. The more tangible his 'family' became to everyone else, the less suspicious they'd be of him. The posters went to cover as much space on the dull walls as possible, and finally he plugged in the laptop he'd been given for the 'trip'.  
  
He needed to check his email, see if there was anything he needed to know, any updates on the assignment he needed to be privy to, and so he plugged it up to the Internet as well before hurrying off for a much needed visit to the bathroom, letting the computer load on its own.  
  
Ryan returned a few minutes later to the sudden sound of a beep, and when he looked at the screen an unfamiliar program was staring back at him, blinking incessantly.  


zeke: where have you been??

He looked at the message for a moment and then it suddenly clicked. The Prince! He'd completely forgotten that the messaging and online contact was now also a part of his job. He quickly regained his composure, though, and sat down in the soft computer chair, turning to the keyboard and writing back. And for a moment he wondered what kind of a name Drew was anyway until he nearly beat himself across the head for forgetting that his supposed middle name was Andrew.

drew: sorry. the last few days have been a little hectic. moving, new school, the whole shebang. i just arrived a couple of hours ago, actually. not nearly settled in yet. how've you been, though?

Across the hall, Brendon seemed to start breathing again when his IM alerted him of a response. He maximized the window and smiled, shaking his head. Every time he saw the name 'Zeke' on the screen, though, he cringed. Since he'd sorely been lacking creativity when creating this nickname, Brendon had been forced to use his middle name. Brendon Ezekiel Beauregard. He had no idea where his parents had come up with that, apart from probably scanning the Bible for names, but it was something that only a few people knew about him.

zeke: oh, right. moving, eh? sounds fun... not that i've ever left this place, but, i imagine it would be fun...   
i've been.. i don't know. anxious. we're meant to write this journal for creative writing and it's just.. stressing me to no end. i kind of can't bear to put any feelings on display like that, you know? it's hard.

Ryan got comfortable in his chair. He was tired but didn't plan on going to bed for a while and there wasn't really anything interesting to do now that he'd unpacked and had yet to meet anyone but that Walker kid. And the urge to hang out with Jon Walker just wasn't there. Besides, talking to the Prince was not only more interesting than he'd have thought (as he'd gauged from the numerous conversations he'd been forced to read), but it was also his job.

drew: i guess it'll be fun once the jet lag goes away and i've settled in and actually met anyone but a teacher and the asshole who showed me around.   
i can definitely understand that. writing something anyone else has to read is tough, especially if it's a lot of people or someone you don't trust. just guard it well, you know?

Brendon chuckled quietly to himself and leaned back in his chair. He grabbed his laptop from the desk and set it in his lap before propping his feet up on said desk and making himself more comfortable. He glanced over at the pile of papers he'd been writing and scribbling on before biting his lip and going back to his conversation.

zeke: yeah, i know. it sucks. i have these great ideas that i can't put to words.   
and don't worry. every school has one asshole who's designated to show the newbies around. i'm actually quite close to the guy who does it here. you'd be surprised at how much they know about every single person in the school. they're like annoying gurus, really. and he's probably your only chance at a friend right now, so, be nice to him, yeah?

Well, Ryan had long-since decided he'd be damned if Jon Walker was the only person at the school he ever came into contact with. But then again he might end up finding everybody to be annoying little kids. After all, they were all at least six years younger than him. And not only that; Ryan was also used to working with and being around solely people who were older than him. Getting used to teenagers again may not be as easy as he'd first thought. He stretched slightly, listening to the pop his back gave as a late protest against the weight of those bags before turning back to the laptop.

drew: sometimes it's just important not to pine over it. get out of the school a little, hang with some friends maybe. i find that the moment you take your mind off writing is the moment inspiration hits you. then let it brew and brim until you can't not write it down. at least that's how i work best.   
and i guess that must be why they ask all those damn questions then. he even talked about some guy who'd kill me if i came too close to one of the students. personally i think it's bollocks. he's just trying to scare the new kid. and i'll try, but being nice is a two-way street, right?

Brendon chuckled softly and nodded his head. He started typing out "going out isn't as easy when you're..." but deleted the whole thing when he realized what he was saying. He then started writing "if the man is dressed in black and wears sunglasses, I'd say it wasn't an empty threat," but ended up deleting that, too, because, how could  _'Zeke'_  know something like that? He finally settled on something that wouldn't completely give him away.

zeke: maybe you're right about the going outside part. haven't just had time to breathe fresh air in a while, when i think about it. we're just so... busy... and i don't get the chance to really hang out with my friends. i don't really have many real friends, actually. sad as that is. but yeah. being nice is a two-way street.... wish that were true all the time.

Ryan observed a longer pause between the messages than what had been on the other side earlier and concluded that the boy on the opposite end of the connection must've had some trouble responding. Perhaps he should slow down on the hints a little, just to make sure he wasn't scaring the Prince off. But then again, Ryan had never been the most patient person. He should probably give it a rest for the night, though.

drew: then you probably should. it might do you some good. but then i guess that's kind of hypocritical for me to say. i mean, i don't really have that many friends either. i tend to focus too hard on my studies too. and what friends i did have are pretty much on the other side of the world right now. oh, well... haha, yes, i think the world could use some more nice at times.

Brendon chuckled and looked back at Zach, who was forever standing at his door, looking extremely bored. Brendon watched him thoughtfully before turning back to the laptop.

zeke: unfortunately, nice isn't something everyone cares for. it's much more fun being annoying or greedy. but, if you'll excuse me, i'm going to go down to the kitchen for a drink. i'll brb.

Ryan yawned slightly, deciding that it was probably a good idea to get to bed soon as well, so really, the Prince didn't have the world's worst timing. He'd have to remember to check that email first, though.  
  
drew: no, doesn't really seem like it. i guess i've just never had to be greedy; my father and grandfather have enough of that trait for all of us. okay, sounds like a good idea. have fun. i'll probably be getting to bed. the flight still has me beat.

 

 

 

 

Brendon nodded to himself as he set the laptop back on the desk and let his feet fall to the floor. He whirled around in the chair and faced Zach. "Oh, Zachy," he drawled, smirking evilly. He got up and sauntered over to the man. "Could you please go down to the kitchen to get me some milk?" he asked, and, before the man could protest, Brendon pulled out a small change purse (he never showed it to anyone, but it was handy to have) and handed Zach the money he'd need. He smiled innocently and watched as Zach groaned and took the money, rolling his eyes as he opened the door and walked out. Brendon followed him into the hallway. He was, after all, meant to keep watch while Zach went on his little mission. As Zach walked away, Brendon pretended to whisper- quite loudly-, "run!" and then smiled, looking around to make sure no one was hanging about.

A loud yell cut Ryan off in the middle of the process of opening the email account on the laptop, secretly hoping that there wouldn't be any emails from the bureau - he didn't feel like messing around with the chest of drawers for decrypting and encryption devices already

And as much as he didn't feel like dealing with the kids around there, his natural curiosity got the best of him and he dragged himself out of the extremely comfortable chair with a slight groan and made his way to the door, unlocking and opening it and stepping out into the hall. His sneakers were making squeaking noises against the floor, reminding him that he needed to somehow make his shoes look more worn to be realistic.

For a moment he couldn't really see anything, but then he heard noise from the end of the hall that was opposite from where he'd been looking and he turned his face that way to catch sight of a large, suit-clad man and a much smaller boy who seemed to be headed in that direction. And honestly, it didn't take much squinting to realize that the kid was the fabled Crown Prince of Beauregia.

Brendon stopped at the end of the hallway and giggled (Zach was the only person who'd ever heard make such a horribly humiliating sound), watching as Zach shook his head and then disappeared out of sight. Deciding that his bodyguard could make his own way back, Brendon hurried back towards his room, but stopped short when he saw someone had opened their door to watch him. He put on his best look of indifference and sniffed at the boy.

"What are you doing?" he asked, one eyebrow raised as he folded his arms across his chest and stared the person right in the eye. He looked back towards the end of the hallway for a moment before looking back again. "And who are you?"  


Ryan mentally rolled his eyes. The perfect incarnation of arrogance. It was hard to believe that this really was the boy he'd been talking to a moment earlier. "I was just checking my email and I heard some noise and got curious," he answered with a shrug, tugging absentmindedly at the hem of the fitted t-shirt Tobias had made him buy. It didn't always quite reach his jeans and that, honestly, made him a little uncomfortable. "I'm Ryan Hastings," he added, remembering to pay attention to the accent. "I'm new here."

Brendon didn't refrain from rolling his eyes, but that was only to keep from frowning. The phrase 'I'm new here' kept repeating in his mind. "Right. You might want to be careful, though. If Zach was here and he'd caught you spying on me, he would have had a reason to suspect you. He's not very nice when he suspects someone of wanting to hurt me," Brendon paused, looking Ryan up and down. "What on earth are you wearing?" he finally asked, his voice laced with disgust. He sneered at Ryan's clothing- not because he particularly cared, but because he'd been brought up to frown upon anything that didn't look normal.

"What, why would he- Oh," Ryan replied, nearly satisfied with his own faked surprise and realization. By the end of this he would probably be able to easily change his profession into acting. "You're the Prince, right? I didn't recognize you at first, your, uhm, Highness?" Then he looked down himself, eyebrows wrinkling slightly. He sort of looked forward to telling Tobias that his 'suggestions' concerning Ryan's clothes had been stupid, though. "A Dolce & Gabbana shirt from the summer '06 collection?" he answered doubtfully. At least that's what his friend had said. "I know it's old, but I still kind of like it." He gave another shrug, trying to just seem clueless enough. Well, perhaps this at least meant that he'd be allowed to lounge around in  _normal_  clothes.

Brendon wrinkled his nose at the mention of calling him 'Your Highness'. He shook his head and sighed heavily, like he thought the boy was stupid. "My name is Brendon, and you may call me Brendon as long as you respect me," he shrugged. Respect wasn't asking much, really, the way he saw it. He leaned against his door frame and looked at the boy for a few silent moments before speaking. "Anyway, it doesn't really matter to me what you wear. It just seems a bit more... effeminate than what we usually see," and with a sweet smile, he turned back to see Zach round a corner with a small carton of milk.

"Okay," Ryan answered, sucking in a deep breath. "I don't see why I shouldn't respect someone until they've given me a reason not to,  _Brendon_ ," he continued, managing a small smile as he followed the boy's gaze towards the buff man who was returning with... milk? Bodyguard or personal servant? "And I guess the clothes are just normal where I come from," he added. "They're comfortable." Definitely another lie. "And I like them." Yet another one. Then he sighed slightly. "I should be going to bed, though. Jet lag and all. I guess I'll see you around."

Brendon plastered on a fake smile and took the carton of milk when it was offered to him. He looked over at Zach, who was blatantly staring at Ryan, so much that it was obvious even though he was forever wearing the black sunglasses. Zach clasped his hands over his stomach and stepped between Brendon and Ryan, obscuring both of them from each other's view. Brendon grumbled, mumbling 'honestly' under his breath before standing on the tips of his toes and peering at Ryan. "Yeah, see you later. Hey! I think Zach likes you!" He smirked at his own joke before walking back into his room to stand at the foot of his bed. He waited until Zach had followed him and closed the door to his room before opening the milk and chugging it down. He tossed the carton into the wastebasket near his bed before flopping down onto said bed and sighing. This was going to be a long term.

Now alone in the hallway, nothing was stopping Ryan from rolling his eyes at the attempted joke. He even gave a slight groan as he turned around and walked back into his room. He returned to the computer to find that the only mail he'd gotten was from Tobias.

_Hey, kid._

_I hope you got there all right and that Princey liked your clothes. Anyway, things are good here except the boss apparently feels the need to pester me and making me show up on time every day. One good thing, though, is that I'm sort of put on your assignment, so at least work should be more fun than it usually is. I also enjoy having the whole apartment to myself. Think I'll plan some crazy partythis weekend or something. Later!_

_\- Tobe_

Another groan escaped Ryan's lips upon reading the email, but he quickly decided, like many times before, that he was too tired to deal with his roommate right then. He'd answer sometime the next day. Instead he logged off and shut the computer down before starting to practically peel the clothes off, finding a pair of pajama pants and a t-shirt instead.

As he crawled into bed, enjoying the feeling of the crisp, new bedsheets around him, he quickly, mostly out of habit, went through the events of the day. The meeting with the infuriating Walker kid, the meeting with call-me-Brendon. The only conclusion he could reach was that this whole assignment looked like it would be even harder than he'd first anticipated.


	3. Chapter 3

Spencer had spent most of last night listening to Jon ramble on about some new student. Now, it wasn't often that Spencer told Jon to shut the hell up, but when the other boy had come back to their room the night before, skipping and grinning, Spencer had already been in a horrible mood. He'd learned in Social Studies that they would be starting a project soon that required you to write an argumentative essay. They hadn't been given the subject yet, all Spencer was sure of was his hatred for essays. This morning, as he swung his legs to the side and sat up in bed, Spencer glanced over at Jon's sleeping form and rolled his eyes. No wonder the guy was sleeping right through the alarm; he'd spent most of the night on his laptop, researching the name Ryan Andrew Hastings for some information. It wouldn't have been completely an exaggeration to call Jon a stalker.  
  
Sighing heavily, Spencer stood from the bed and stretched, his immaculate flannel pajamas now rumpled from sleep. He trudged to the washroom, mumbling at Jon to wake up, wake up, wake up. Once he was dressed and ready to leave, he waited by the door for Jon to pull on his socks and sleepily slip on his shoes. They made their way down to the cafeteria for breakfast consisting of bread, fruit, eggs and various breakfast meats. When they had finished the quick breakfast, both boys parted ways; Spencer to his Social Studies class and Jon to Phys. Ed.  
  
The teacher for the Social Studies class was an old, bitter woman. She adored giving the toughest subjects for all her essays, and always succeeded in dividing her class on the right or wrongs of certain things. Spencer always thought that she did this out of pure pleasure of seeing people fight and not because she wanted them to learn something. He had no doubt that it would be the same thing today. He took his usual seat near the back and placed all his books on the small, wooden desk before waiting impatiently for the class to start. He only looked up when almost everyone in the class stopped talking. The teacher had come in, only about four minutes before the bell, as always, and they knew they weren't permitted to talk. Spencer sighed and stopped himself from rolling his eyes as he waited for class to start.

Ryan was more or less lost. The teacher the night before had talked about the Walker kid walking him to classes so he would get there with no trouble, but Ryan had found breakfast on his own and had then waited for the kid to come find him. Which, obviously, hadn't happened yet. In the end he'd decided that he should start looking himself, and that was why he was now walking down an unfamiliar hallway, hoping to just stumble across the right class room or something. Social studies in room 208 or something. He'd deducted that it had to be on the second floor, but that was how far he'd gotten, and now he was looking at the door leading into room 227, having absolutely no clue of where he ought to go. For a moment he considered barging into one of the other classrooms in the hopes that some teacher would be nice enough to guide him along the way, but if he were to judge by Brown, he had a feeling the teachers wouldn't really like that.

The bell rang and he cringed slightly. He hated being late for anything. It was probably just something that had been drilled into him at the academy, but that didn't change the fact that he was feeling very uncomfortable at the moment, even to the point where he felt a slight chill run down his back. And he really sort of hated that. He was supposed to be on top of things, in control of all of this, and yet he couldn't even make it to his very first class on time. And to top it off, that made him feel uneasy. He'd have to spend some time alone in his room later trying to get the fact that he wasn't some scared student but an agent with a mission through his own mind.

He was at room 215 now, so he was pretty sure he had to have taken a right turn somewhere. At least he was closer now. Even though the extra attention he'd be drawing to himself was quite unnecessary, and definitely unwanted. Oh, well, he should be able to deal with that. 210, definitely the right direction. And there was 208. He sighed in relief, reaching up to tighten his tie a little and make sure his uniform was in perfect order, and opened the door, biting his lip slightly as he tried to walk in quietly.

'Quietly' didn't seem to have much of an effect since the teacher, an elderly, strict-looking woman, looked straight at him the moment he shut the door behind him. Her eyes were narrowed and irritated behind thick glasses. "And who do I have the pleasure of seeing in my classroom at..." She looked pointedly at her watch before meeting his gaze again, lips pursed. "Eight thirty- _four_?"

"I'm sorry, ma'am," Ryan mumbled. "I got lost. The kid who-"

"I didn't ask for the story of your life," the woman snapped, glaring even harder. "I asked for a name to write down on this detention slip."

He gulped slightly, looking down on his sneakers momentarily before moving his gaze back up. "Ryan Hastings, ma'am," he answered, having to force himself to keep from shuffling his feet nervously. Great, first day and he already had a detention. At least he didn't have orders not to get one. And damn, yet another reason to dislike the Walker kid.

The teacher quickly scribbled a note and placed it on her desk with a slap of her hand. "Well, don't just stand there. One thing is that you're late and haven't brought your books, an entirely different one is to disrupt the lesson for the entire class. Sit!"

Ryan nodded, turning around to overlook the classroom. There weren't many free seats, so he simply hurried down and all but flung himself into the first one, hoping to lose the spotlight as soon as possible.

Spencer chuckled quietly, as did most of the boys in the class, and guessed that this was the kid Jon had been talking about. He settled right down when the teacher turned her attention back to the class. She didn't waste any time in informing them of the project once again and forming the groups. When she had gone through most of the students, she turned to Spencer. "And, from what I remember, since Mr. Smith cannot seem to agree with anyone in this class, we'll try giving him a new partner. Ryan Hastings, you are now paired up with Spencer Smith. Spencer, I expect you to make an effort, instead of arguing with your classmates about everything." Without waiting for a reply from either boy, she turned away from them and started writing on the chalkboard. "This," she started, once she'd written on the board, "is your subject."

'Slaves And Our Economy: Are their salaries making a difference?'

Spencer held back a groan and let his head fall onto the desk, just as the teacher told everyone to pair up. He kept his face on the hard, cool, surface of the desk and didn't look up. He sure as hell was not going to be the one to move.

Ryan, honestly, felt disgusted just by the subject in itself. He couldn't understand how anyone could see other  _people_  as possessions, something to own and now something to hate because it messed with the economy. This, he reminded himself, was a huge part of the reason why he was so adamant on fighting for his own country, because it was the opposite, because it regarded people as people.

After a few moments and another stern look from the teacher, he started looking around the classroom before letting his eyes settle on the boy he supposed was Spencer Smith. The only one not in a group yet anyway. The boy was nearly lying across his table, and Ryan wasn't sure whether he was asleep or just trying to disappear. Frankly he didn't care much. Essays were something he could deal with, even if the subject was horrible. After all the only things he'd written in years were letters, emails, reports and files. He had non-fiction down quite well.

He remembered group work in high school, though, and had to hold back a groan. He'd never been good at it, mostly because the others either hated him, didn't take the assignment seriously, or both, and as a result he much preferred doing this kind of work on his own. He wasn't exactly being given a choice, though, so he finally picked up his chair and moved it over to the boy's desk. "Hey," he muttered, refraining from biting his lip yet again.

Spencer took a deep breath before lifting his head and sending a weak smile Ryan's way. "Hey," he said, cocking his head to the side and studying the boy in front of him. He remained silent for a few seconds, until the teacher cleared her throat loudly and Spencer opened his binder and found a blank sheet of lined paper. "All right, I think you should know that I hate essays and I'm really not good at them. On the other hand, I know almost everything there is to know about this country, its laws, and the way things work. So, the way I see it, this will be split into equal parts. I mean, I will help with the writing and all, but I think it would be better if you worked on the structure, our ideas and our arguments. Is that okay?" He mumbled every word, pencil in hand as he wrote down the subject and his name neatly in the corner of the page, waiting for Ryan to answer.

Ryan nodded slowly, eyes fixed on the paper. That sounded good enough for him. He wouldn't have to do research, and he would simply be able to write someone else's opinions down as though they were his own, or even write it neutral. Reports had made him used to never writing what he really meant. "It sounds good," he stated. "I mean, I don't really know a lot about this country yet, or how it works." He shrugged slightly. "I guess all I really know is what I've heard, so you're probably more qualified for the actual facts than I am. But I can write it, yeah. I've never had a problem with non-fiction. Besides, the structure is often better if it's not just split up to be worked on and written down apart." He sucked in a breath, finally looking up to meet the piercing blue eyes he was faced with. "On a completely different note, what's your next class?"

Spencer wrote a few more things down ('reminder: ask brendon about his father's workers,' 'look up what their minimum wage is,' 'only rich people have slaves.... lots of rich people') before answering. "I have... English Lit. Which means you'll be spending more time with Jon, and yes he told me all about you-- and your schedule, because he's rather good at stalking--, which I'm sure you love," Spencer smirked at this. No doubt Jon had annoyed this poor guy to no end last night. "And... well, Brendon's obviously going to be there, but I wouldn't really hold my breath for him to talk to you." Shrugging, he went back to writing more things that weren't really very important. He wrote down a few books he knew of that held the historic aspect of slaves and some on the economy, as well. He was really just trying to make it seem as though he was working.

Ryan nodded, peering down at the list with his brow furrowed in thought. "Well," he said. "I was mostly just asking because Jon was supposed to have helped me find my class and he didn't, which is why I now have a detention. So if we had the same class, which we seem to, I was just wondering if I could tag along with you and avoid getting lost again. Putting my faith in Walker doesn't seem that appealing." He let the corner of his lips quirk up a bit in a sort of half-smile, still following the pen's journey over the paper. This kid might actually not be so bad.

Spencer hummed in thought and then nodded slowly. "They only asked Jon to do such an  _important_  job because his parents have donated a lot of money to this school. Keeps him from getting into trouble, you see, and the teachers thought that maybe if Jon was... the go-to guy, then his father would be pleased." He paused, tapping his pen on the desk a few times. "Not that anybody actually knows who Jon's father is..." trailing off, Spencer went back to jotting down random words. It helped his thinking process, which made him disregard the fact that it looked like nonsense. Writing down one last thing, he closed his binder and looked at Ryan, seizing him up. "You can stick with me, I don't mind. You can even have lunch with me, which is after third period, by the way, but don't expect anyone but Jon to pretend to like you." It was as if he hadn't even realized that what he'd said could be taken the wrong way. He looked back down at his binder and shrugged. "We can continue working tonight."

"Okay, thanks," Ryan replied, making a mental note to get someone to check out the Walkers. It was useful to know as much about these people as possible. And he'd keep telling himself it wasn't because he'd always found information to be the best weapon if he had to. He was an adult, a grown man, he should be above petty things such as being annoyed with a stupid teenage boy. "And tonight sounds good," he added. "Not as though I actually have anything to do after detention. Where do I go for that anyway?"

Spencer shrugged on shoulder uselessly. "I've never had detention... Jon has, though. You could ask him at lunch." He chuckled quietly, but quickly shut up lest the teacher hear him. "So," he continued in a whisper, "what do you do for fun,  _Ryan Hastings_?" he faked a thick British accent and looked at Ryan pointedly, pushing some of his brown hair away from his face. It was one thing that separated Brendon, Jon and Spencer from many boys at the school; they'd let their hair grow as long as it was allowed. Most of the boys had their hair cut short, but the trio had decided long ago that short hair did not do them well. He guessed it was the same reason for Ryan.

Ryan refrained from rolling his eyes. "I guess I will, then," he answered, letting the small smile grow a little. The question, though. It had been a long time since Ryan had done anything for fun. Ever since high school it had been all about education and, later, work. He'd unwind on the shooting range or doing research and really, he guessed he hadn't had much of a life. Perhaps workaholic was a little too close to the truth. "I hang out with my friends," he answered. He did do that, sometimes. Mostly in the apartment with Tobias who lived there too anyway, but still... "I don't really do sports. It seems no matter what I do, I can't build muscle. Reading, listening to music, watching movies, shopping." He shrugged slightly, well aware that he'd passed the threshold into the world of lies once again. "You know, the usual. What about you?"

Spencer seemed to think about Ryan's answer before giving his own, speaking slowly as if Ryan were stupid. "I read," he started, blinking owlishly and sighing. "I read and I learn everything I can about my country. My father insists on it; he's councilor to the King, you see, and he expects me to do the same for Brendon... But I suppose it's not all work. I hang out with Jon, mostly. I'm a lot like him, apart from the fact that he never changes. I know when it's time to work and I know when it's time to play," he shrugged again and frowned slightly. "We hang out with Brendon, too, but that boy is so frustrating sometimes..." he trailed off, shaking his head. "I don't do much, to be completely honest." Spencer was pleasantly surprised that the teacher hadn't caught on that they weren't working yet. Maybe it was the fact that they weren't laughing or loudly telling jokes. But Spencer was always completely serious when he was in class. Jon often told him that he was completely two-faced, but Spencer always shrugged him off. Looking back at Ryan, he wondered if he'd said too much about Brendon. He didn't want to attract any questions.

Ryan had to stop himself from actually admitting that with him it was all work and no play. He really wasn't cut out for being undercover, for playing a role. Especially around people like Spencer who just gave this vibe that you could tell him everything without having to worry. This, though, was a lie, and Ryan knew that. If he told anyone here at all, he'd be as good as dead. "My father constantly makes me read up on business," he said instead. "I love that I finally got out of taking it as a subject. But I know how those expectations feel. I'm supposed to take over the family company whether I like it or not. And I honestly don't. It's not as though there's really any choice, though." Then he let out a slight chuckle. "Well, I think I'd be frustrating too if I was born into that situation. The expectations everyone has just because I'm the heir of a company are bad enough. I don't even want to imagine how it would feel with a country." He pulled at one finger slightly, letting out a tiny sigh of relief when it popped. Bad, nervous habit of his. He couldn't help how good it felt, though. "Is there actually anything at all to do around here?"

Spencer chuckled softly, only for about a second before his face went back to impassive. He listened to Ryan as the boy spoke, nodding at times. At the question, Spencer nodded briefly. "Well... there's a girl's school nearby and we're allowed visiting on the weekends. Actually, we're not allowed, but people do it anyway. If you're into that. And we can go into town on the weekends, as well, or visit our parents if they live close enough. Apart from that, we have a few annual dances and random sports activities. But that's about it..." he snorted, just now realizing how truly boring the school actually was. "Oh," he said, suddenly remembering something, "some of the guys also like throwing parties on weekends, because they live quite close. So, if you like parties and ever get invited, you can't miss out on those." Personally, Spencer had only been to one of those parties and that was because Jon had dragged him along. All they ever did was drink and do stupid things. They weren't really Spencer's type, but they might have been Ryan's.

Fact was that Ryan had always felt a little awkward around girls. Either they didn't give him the time of the day or he was too busy for them. He tended to clam up and go weird around them for some reason, save the ones at work. But then again, he hardly saw those few as girls. So, in a way, he guessed, it sort of helped his case of believability that he was supposed to be more than just a little gay. "Girls," he muttered, biting his lip slowly. "Not really. I hope that doesn't offend you or anything, but you know. I guess the town and parties might be nice enough, but my parents are all the way back in England, so I guess I'll mostly just be spending weekends and breaks here. Unless they close for breaks. I don't know." He took a deep breath, ending his ramblings. Since when was he a rambler anyway? Since he was afraid of being punched for pretending to be something he had never even thought of being, perhaps. And perhaps it had been a bad card to play. In an hour it might be all over the <i>catholic</i> school, and he wasn't sure how he was supposed to accomplish anything at all if he went and became the school outcast already.

This confession caused Spencer to laugh outright and loudly. He clamped a hand over his mouth to muffle the sound and sputtered for a few moments before regaining his composure and shaking his head. "Wow, I've never heard anyone admit it like that, you know. Usually it's more along the lines of they get caught with some other guy in an empty classroom." He grinned over at Ryan and shook his head. "And I don't mind in the least. We're pretty sure Jon's at least partly gay... if that makes any sense. And Brendon... well, Brendon's obviously asexual."

He looked away for a few moments before turning back to Ryan. "The school is always open. Not many stay over the holidays, though..."

"I just don't see any reason to hide it," Ryan said, building more on top of the little story that was forming about Hastings's sexuality. "That would equal being ashamed of it, which I'm not." He smiled slightly. "And at least it's good to know I'm not entirely alone." Brendon, though, asexual? Ryan was pretty sure he could tell this guy a thing or two. But he was also pretty sure that it wouldn't be in his favour to do so.

Spencer chuckled. "Glad you think like that. Many people would just push away their true self just to fit in... But anyway, English Lit. soon. Best start putting away your shit." Spencer gave him one last smile before gathering all his binders and books into his arms and waiting patiently for the bell.

Ryan shrugged and stood back up, grabbing the back of his chair to push it back to his original desk. "I don't really have any yet. Haven't gotten my books yet," he stated, sticking his hands into the pockets of the comfortably loose, black uniform slacks, smiling slightly as he waited for Spencer to finish getting ready, and secretly hoping that the English lit. teacher wouldn't be as bad.

Spencer nodded knowingly and jumped up from his desk as soon as the bell rang. He walked quickly out of the class to the sound of the teacher reminding them to work on the essay and that it was to be given in, in exactly two weeks. He looked back to make sure Ryan was following him and smiled sheepishly. "The English teacher is actually pretty cool... he also teaches creative writing and Brendon is absolutely smitten, really. When Brendon actually likes someone, you know that they're good." Spencer informed as they made their way to a class only a few doors down. He led the way inside, taking his usual seat right beside where Brendon would be sitting. He looked around and pointed to the desk right in front of his, "you can sit there. No one important has claimed it.."

The older of the two cocked an eyebrow slightly but decided not to comment. Instead he sat down at the appointed desk and turned the chair around to resume facing Spencer. If the teacher was good, then this was definitely a class he wasn't opposed to being stuck in. He'd taken a couple of literature courses while in law school, and he'd definitely liked it. It was interesting and had had nothing to do with his education. Perhaps, he mused, taking lit as a class was the only thing he'd done for fun in years. "What have you been working with lately?" he asked. Finally an honest question, one he wanted to ask, not just something he felt Ryan Hastings would say.

Spencer smiled and waved at Jon as he walked through the door and to his own designated seat behind Brendon's still empty desk. He then turned back to Ryan, a smile still on his lips. "We've been doing Shakespeare. Which, I find, is extremely overused in any high school. I mean, I guess Shakespeare is great and all, but his are plays... they're not meant to simply be read," he shrugged, "but I can't really do anything about it." He turned to Jon slightly, who was leaning forward and listening to their conversation.  
  
"Remember me?" Jon asked, looking at Ryan and waggling his eyebrows. He ignored Spencer's frown and waited for Ryan to answer. Several students were now randomly entering the classroom and taking their seats, talking amongst each other. The only people missing, it seemed, were Brendon and the teacher.

"I know what you mean," Ryan told Spencer, deciding to put off talking to Jon for as long as he could politely do so. "Watching his plays are amazing, though. My mother used to take me in to see the Royal Shakespeare performances; it was pretty brilliant. But on the other hand, the stories are good in themselves, and reading them gives you more time to take in deeper meanings and references and metaphors, everything. Ideally, you'd read the play until you feel like you have everything under your skin, and then watch it." He smiled slightly. "And to top it off, reading and managing to understand Shakespeare helps you grasp a lot more of older poetry than you'd otherwise have been able to." Finally he turned to Jon, making sure a frown was visible on his face. "I seem to remember you standing me up."

Jon chuckled and smiled widely, like a child proud of doing something for the first time. "And it helped you get to know your way around better, didn't it? See? Everything I do has its purpose." Jon said wisely, nodding to himself. His eyes flicked to the door and he saw Brendon hurry in just seconds before the bell rang, Mr. O'Connor on his heels.

Spencer leaned forward a bit, his voice hushed, "if you like plays a lot, you'll get along great with Brendon," he said, making sure not to say Brendon's name too loudly. "He sees one at least once a month."

Brendon took his seat, falling heavily onto the chair. His face was slightly flushed and it was obvious he'd been running. Mr. O'Connor only smiled softly at him and shook his head. Turning to his friends, Brendon opened his eyes wide as if to say, "oh, my god!" and then rolled them. "That stupid teacher we have for Diplomacy stopped me in the hallway and talked to me for about eight years. I hate that--"  
  
"Brendon, class has started. No talking. Let's all take out our books, instead. And..." the teacher turned to Ryan, smiling, "you must be Mr. Hastings. I'll get you a book. Spencer, which act were we at?"  
  
"Act three, scene one, sir." Spencer replied, taking out his book and opening it just as the teacher handed Ryan another copy. By his side, Brendon sighed and seemed to relax quite a bit. Everything about books made Brendon relax and he was always more at ease when they were reading or discussing certain themes. Spencer smiled discreetly and waited for the lesson to start.

Ryan leaned back in the chair that he'd now turned around to face the front of the class. He was leafing through his copy, trying to find the right page while also keeping some of his attention up front, on the teacher. The first one so far that hadn't looked pissed and/or menacing. He guessed it would fit if English lit. were to become his favorite class again. It had been both in high school and college. Finally he found the right place, smiling slightly. It had been ages since he'd last read that play, but hopefully he remembered enough to be able to keep up. Shakespeare was good enough, but Ryan actually, personally, preferred Marlowe out of the writers of that time. Then again, he'd always had a thing for ancient Greek and Roman literature, and Marlowe referenced that far more than Shakespeare.

"Since it's been weekend," the teacher started, over-looking the class, "I guess it would be good for all of us if someone were to refresh our memories." There was a strange twinkle in his eyes as he let his gaze sweep over the students. "Any volunteers?"

Brendon's hand shot up, his book left discarded on the desk. He didn't really mean to seem so eager, but he just knew this book backwards and forwards. When the teacher nodded at him, he smiled slightly before talking, unable to keep some animation from his voice. "Scene one in the second act exists mostly for comic relief... Elbow 'misplaces' his words and they have trouble interrogating him. We also meet Pompey and Froth, who work for Mistress Overdone... Escalus tells them that prostitution is illegal and should be punished. He also tells them not to go to the brothel again. At the end of the act, he mourns Claudio's fate, but also says that there is no remedy for it. Not much happens in the next scenes, except that Isabella talks to Angelo and Lucio, asking them if her brother really must die. They argue a bit before Isabella tells Angelo that she'll bribe him by praying for him... Angelo then tells her to return tomorrow and she agrees. There's also a soliloquy, during which Angelo discovers that he desires Isabella sexually. He wonders why.

"We then see the Duke, who is dressed as a friar, and he visits the prison where Juliet and Claudio are kept. Juliet tells him that she repents her sins, and when asked if she loves the man who impregnated her, she replies that she loves him as much as she loves herself. The Duke promises to help absolve her, but also tells her that she has sinned more than her lover. He then tells her that he is going to visit Claudio, who is meant to die tomorrow, and she expresses sorrow. In the last scene, we find Isabella together with Angelo again. This time, he propositions her; asking if she would have sexual intercourse with a man to save her brother. Isabella is angry with this, convinced to be chaste, and does not want to save her brother through further sin. She is given a sort of power over her brother's death, but justifies that his death is better than her own sinful act." Brendon finished, feeling thoroughly pleased with himself but not showing it.  


"Good, Brendon," Mr. O'Connor commented, sending a small smile that way. "And what can we conclude from Isabella's decision?" he asked on, cocking an eyebrow. "And I want to see more than one or two hands in the air. We discussed this last week, and you're too young to have gone senile." Even with a few hands, Brendon's included, already in the air, the teacher seemed to hesitate to pick someone, probably trying to lure some of the quieter students out of hiding.

Ryan bit his lip slightly, the summary drawing more of the distant memories of the play back to him. In the end he decided he may as well participate. It wasn't a part of his assignment to pass senior year of high school again, but he didn't think it would help his case if he came across as quiet and stupid either, so he finally, slowly and meekly, put up his hand.

The teacher looked slightly surprised at it, but focused his attention on Ryan. "Mr. Hastings?" he questioned, an interested tone to his voice. "You've already been over this material?" At Ryan's nod, he continued, "Please do tell, then."

"Although she says she's doing it out of religious and moral concerns, she must have some thought for herself as well. She does not want to have sexual relations with Angelo, and she knows that she should not have to do that. However, her brother's life is at stake. Perhaps she is right to protect herself and her principles, especially considering that she believes in an afterlife. But perhaps she is too cold and selfish," Ryan stated with a slight shrug. "She's essentially condemning her own brother to death, really. I guess in a way it speaks of the conflict of belief. Life versus afterlife. You know."

Mr. O'Connor chuckled slightly. "That's quite interesting," he stated. "I haven't heard that interpretation in a long time; very British. I think here we'd merely say that a wrong can't right a wrong, at least not without producing a new one."

Ryan flushed slightly, not really sure why. He'd always prided himself in being able to catch the points and see the meanings, but if everything, down to literature interpretations, were different here, then he really had no idea how to hold his own. But oh well. It wasn't as though he had any desire to understand this strange country, where sex was seen as wrong and something too... he didn't even know how to describe it, too something to be worth saving someone's life, where that view was okay. In the end that didn't matter, though. Change wasn't what he'd come to start.

"Anyhow, this was last class' discussion," the teacher stated. "Now, I'd like you all to gather in groups of four to read the third act together and discuss it within your group." He gave a last nod before everyone was left to scurry into groups. Some of three, some of five, left to even things out. Brendon, Spencer and Jon immediately turned to each other and grinned. They moved their desks closer together and Brendon had picked up his book, ready to read, when Spencer turned to Ryan and beckoned him with his hand.

"Well?" he asked, eyebrows raised slightly, and his blue eyes opened wide, "Aren't you coming?"

Ryan refrained from biting his lip, allowing a small smile to pass over his lips. He had been feeling a little awkward for a moment, the familiar feeling of being left out that he remembered so well from when he first went to high school present again. "Thanks," he mumbled, gripping his desk and pulling it over close to those of the others'. And this was definitely something he wasn't used to. The feeling of being included in a group of teenagers. Not that he really was, but still, it gave the semblance of it. He quickly pushed those thoughts away, though. He wasn't here to make friends. He had a very specific job to do, and he'd be damned if he were to mess it up just because he'd been a loser when he was originally in school. He looked down at the table, bangs falling in his eyes, and he had to refrain from pushing them back, still not used to hair in his face, as he fiddled with the pages of the book.

"All right, well, I'm assuming Brendon wants to read..." Spencer trailed off when Jon chuckled loudly and sputtered words that sounded like 'suck up'. Brendon glared at Jon and smacked him lightly over the head with his book before holding it in front of his face, taking a deep breath, and reading.

<center>***</center>

As the small group left for lunch, Jon attached himself to Spencer's hip and they walked closer together than seemed comfortable. Brendon walked beside Spencer, a few feet away, with his head held high and his eyes making contact with anyone who dared. He only glanced down once, making sure that Ryan was with them, because Spencer seemed to like the boy. He sniffed and went back to surveying the hallway almost immediately. When they made their way to the cafeteria, Brendon smiled slightly to see the buffet set up. Beside Spencer, Jon made a sound that should be saved for the confines of a bedroom and ran towards the buffet tables, quickly grabbing a plate and looking over what they had to eat. Spencer and Brendon followed suit.

Ryan stood quietly for a moment, looking around the huge cafeteria. With most everyone gathered there, the school seemed even huger, and he gulped uncomfortably at the thought that every last one of them would hate him without hesitation if they knew why he was there. The intimidated feeling returned unbidden, and he shivered slightly, suddenly feeling cold despite the several layers of uniform clothing. Finally, though, he took a deep breath, stubbornly reminding himself that they were only children, there was no way for them to know. Just children, not a threat. Straightening himself up a little, reaching his full albeit not too impressive height, he finally grabbed a plate as well and made his way to the line of people waiting to get to the food.

Brendon busied himself with scooping up insane amounts of greek salad and some cold pasta salad. When he reached the end of the line, he eyed Jon's plate with disgust, full of cold cuts and bread. When Spencer joined them, Brendon started to walk towards their usual table, only to be stopped by Spencer's hand on his sleeve.

"Wait for Ryan," Spencer said, sounding like a parent trying to get his child to behave. Brendon rolled his eyes before setting his features in a mask of indifference and waiting, his foot tapping impatiently even if it only took a few minutes for Ryan to pass through the line. When they were all together, Brendon led the way to their table, somewhere near the middle of the cafeteria. It was small and round, just enough place for four people, and no one else ever dared to touch it, even if they hated Brendon's guts. As soon as Brendon sat down, he clasped his hands together and muttered a silent prayer- one his father had taught him years ago. It wasn't that he particularly cared for prayer, it was more a habit than anything else. And he had to set an example. When he was finished, he poked at his salad with his fork and ate the big mouthful.

The prayer was yet another reminder of how different this culture was to the one Ryan knew. And at the same time a part of him was secretly amused that the boy who'd complained about religion so many times in writing would be the one to uphold it. He knew, of course, that Brendon, as Prince, had to uphold some pretences, an elaborate façade, but in a way it was still funny. And for some reason the fact that he'd read so many of the boy's secrets, enough to have at least an idea of what lay beneath, it gave him a slight feeling of security. He wasn't even sure why, but he wasn't going to bother trying to understand it. Psychology was never his strong subject. Ryan bit his lip slightly, picking up his fork and stabbing at his salad for a moment, timid again. No matter what he knew about Brendon that perhaps even Spencer and Walker didn't, he was still the stranger, the new one; the intruder in their safe, little group. It was not only safer but also much more polite to let them strike up their own conversations and only speak when he felt it was actually wanted.

"So, Ryan and I are working on a project together," Spencer started, looking directly at Brendon. "It's about, um, well... slaves." At this, Brendon looked up, one eyebrow cocked as he finished chewing and swallowed. "And," Spencer continued, shrugging, "you're the only person I know who... might know some things." He finished quietly, assessing Brendon's reaction and cringing slightly. Brendon mouth was a thin line and the muscles in his jaw flared as he clenched his teeth.

"They're workers," Brendon ground out, before dropping his gaze to his plate. He shifted uncomfortably before taking a deep breath and going back to eating as if nothing had been said. A few seconds later, he huffed and rolled his eyes. "Well, what do you want to know?" he snapped.

When Spencer made no move to answer and the silence was starting to become heavy, Ryan looked up from cutting his cold ham into pieces and flushed slightly when he realized the others were all looking at him. "Well," he muttered. "The subject is how the UN enforced law that the former slaves must receive payment for their work is affecting the country's economy." He bit his lip quickly, taking a sip of his juice. The others' eyes were still heavy on him. "I don't really know anything. I mean, I know some of the debate in the UN, but clearly not as much as someone who's actually from around here would."

"That's the most idiotic thing I have ever heard. My father has plenty of- workers. And he doesn't mind one bit that they have to be paid." Brendon kept a calm demeanour, reigning in his emotions successfully this time. He took another bite of salad and looked over at Spencer, who shrugged and picked at his food.

"I know, Brendon, but that terrible teacher gave us the subject; you know the one. She always wants to divide the class and make us argue. Just, we want some help, that's all. If you don't want to help, I'll just read books. It's no big deal." Spencer smiled warmly and stared at Brendon, waiting for Brendon to say something.

"I don't know what you want me to help with.. I mean. Okay, yeah, the workers live in the castle, which means they have their own Quarters. But the castle is huge. They get about eight dollars an hour. It's not much, but.. Their taxes are ridiculously high, though. As is the cost of their food and rent."  


"So basically," Ryan started, finding himself incapable of holding back a comment. "Basically they're kept in poverty and forced to remain dependent on the higher classes." His stomach churned at the thought. And he felt a little helpless for a moment, to hear about something that was that horrible but was yet something he couldn't do anything about. Wasn't  _allowed_  to do anything about. The bureau could care less about the 'former' slaves as long as he managed to get under the crown prince's skin. Sometimes, he mused, a democracy could be just as unfair and ridiculous as a monarchy. "I guess that's not even the point, though," he quickly added, shrugging. "The assignment is about economy, not human rights." And he nearly flushed again, embarrassed to have gotten so caught up in it, so obviously bothered by the subject. He must look stupid to people who just took this situation for granted.

Brendon glared at him, his temper getting the best of him. "Look, just because our country does things quite differently from  _yours_ ," he started, disgust dripping from his voice at the word, "does not mean that you are better than we are. Do you think we have any power over this?" he asked, one eyebrow raised and his eyes flashing menacingly. "Well, not yet, anyway," he then muttered after a few seconds in silence.

Spencer bit his lip and resisted the urge to pat Brendon's arm. He knew of Brendon's uneasiness towards how some of the lower class was treated, even if he rarely showed his concern, and he really hadn't meant to push the subject and make him mad. He still didn't understand why he cared so much how the slaves (workers, as Brendon liked to call them) lived, but he remembered Brendon being quite young when it had all started. He was so different from his father, but the rest of the country didn't seem to know. How could they when Brendon always kept to himself?

"I'm sorry," Ryan quickly gritted out, deciding it would be best to smooth the waters as quickly as possible. Arguing with and angering the Prince probably wasn't the way to go about anything at all. "I didn't mean to offend you. And as you yourself pointed out, I haven't really had time to get used to how things work here." He sucked in a deep breath, pushing the food around on the plate for a moment. "I don't think I'm any better than any of you, I'm just trying to understand." That was another half-lie, even if he hadn't had to depend on those so much for the last while; Ryan, like most of his countrymen, had always felt superior to their neighbors to the south. It wasn't something he was proud of, but it was hard to get around the way he was raised to see things, and all he'd ever been taught about in relation to Beauregia was unfair laws and inhumane treatment of colored people, unjust trials and executions for ridiculous reasons. He'd never been taught to see the citizens as actual people, as real human beings. He'd have to teach himself, he realized, or he'd come across as arrogant enough to ruin everything. "I'm guessing, though, that some of the people who have many former slaves must be losing money on it while some of the ones with just a few may actually make more because they don't have to pay as many taxes. And the state probably makes a bit more in tax income." It was impressive, really, how the state had managed to take a demand and turn it into something that helped its own economy flourish. He wasn't about to say that out loud, though.

Brendon shrugged, obviously not wanting to talk about it. Whenever something went wrong with his country, or whenever someone didn't like the way things were run, Brendon always felt as though it was his fault. It wasn't, though, not yet. But Brendon always felt as though he took the brunt of it. He didn't like feeling guilty when he had no control over things, but he couldn't help his stomach feeling like it flipped inside of him. When he stayed silent, Spencer spoke up. "Thanks for trying, Bren. I'll just read up on it and everything will be fine." He said, trying to make Brendon feel better. Outwardly, Brendon looked absolutely fine, but Spencer knew better. He was about to say something else when Jon spoke up.

"So?" he asked, his cheery voice sounding fake, "what are we up to tonight?" he smiled at Brendon, trying to make the situation better. Jon was no consoling kind of guy. Rather, he tried to make things better by changing the subject all the time. It might have been annoying if his friends didn't know it was his way of trying to help.

Ryan kept looking at Brendon for a few moments, digesting the reaction. And he couldn't help but to feel slightly bad because he knew from the rants he'd read, knew from the expression on the boy's face that the Prince wasn't just a stone-cold person who didn't care. Judging by the exchanged messages, Brendon, if anything, cared  _too much_. He shook it off, though. He didn't even know the kid, and he figured Brendon wouldn't want a virtual stranger looking at him for too long. No one had answered yet. "I have detention," he finally decided to state, at a loss for anything else. "Walker, do you think there's any way you could at least show up to help me find my way there since it's sort of your fault I have one in the first place?"

Jon chuckled and nodded, "it just so happens that I have a detention, too!" he waggled his eyebrows and then chuckled again in delight. Brendon made an odd noise and rolled his eyes.

"Again!?" he asked, incredulous. Spencer had a horrified expression and waited for Jon to explain. The boy shrugged at the questions and took a mouthful of ham, talking as he chewed.  
  
"I just got into a fight in Phys. Ed. Nothing too bad. Just some guy, pissed me off." He didn't offer any more explanation before resuming his eating. Spencer and Brendon looked at each other, both wearing the same amused expression. It seemed that Jon fought with just about everyone. This wasn't anything knew. "Anyway, I'll go with you, Ryan. It'll be fun. Hopefully one of the more laid back teachers is watching over us. And it's only forty-five minutes long, so." He shrugged once again.

"I guess that's all right then," Ryan said. "Thanks." And he still wasn't really that fond of Jon Walker, but somehow the notion that he, at least, wasn't going to have to be alone with some teacher was soothing. The students he could write off as merely children who lacked the skill it took to figure him out. The teachers, though, people older than himself, they made him nervous. "After that I don't really know," he added. "Write my parents perhaps. Or my brother. Not sure at all."

Brendon nodded slowly, obviously thinking about something. "We could go into town afterward," he suggested, nodding. "We could leave around six, get there around seven and be back before ten for curfew? I'll just call someone to drive us. We haven't been into town in a long time, so it should be fun even if there's nothing to do." He smirked and looked up at Spencer and Jon expectantly.

"That sounds great," Spencer said, and Jon nodded in agreement. Both were happy that Brendon would finally be leaving the confines of the school- and not just to go home. Spencer looked over at Ryan, smiling at the boy. "You going to come?"

Ryan swallowed the bite of food in his mouth, looking up slowly. Spencer was the open and friendly one and Ryan found himself flashing the boy a small smile. Jon and Brendon, though. Ryan still disliked Jon and during the course of lunch he'd already managed to unintentionally hurt Brendon. Of course he should be jumping at the chance to get a step closer to doing his job, but he did know enough about people to realize that overwhelming new ones with your presence tends to push them away. He finally settled on shrugging, looking down at his own hands. "I wouldn't want to impose," he stated in a quiet voice.

Jon snorted. "Yeah, right. Brendon hasn't told you to fuck off and leave yet, so I'm pretty sure you're safe," he said, receiving a death glare from Brendon and a kick from Spencer under the table. He turned to both of them, eyebrows knit and a surprised expression on his face. "What?!" he asked, rather loudly. Spencer shook his head and rolled his eyes, laughing silently.

"You're more than welcome to come, Ryan. Brendon's invitation was extended to you, as well, even if he didn't show it," Spencer offered sweetly, Brendon's death glare now directed to him before the boy huffed and shook his head, looking down at his food as he pouted.

Ryan still felt somewhat doubtful. Brendon was the only one who mattered to his assignment, and if he didn't want Ryan there, he shouldn't go. Finally he sighed, keeping his eyes on the Prince and deciding that he didn't look too annoyed by the development. "Yeah, I guess I came here to see the country anyway, not just the school," he stated, smiling a little again. "Thanks."

Brendon's lips twitched and he forked in a mouthful of salad, chewing quickly so he didn't have to say anything. Spencer smiled widely. "Great!"


	4. Chapter 4

Never before had Ryan experienced actually having to thoroughly debate with himself what clothes he should wear. The school uniform wasn't a good idea, obviously. But he still didn't like the clothes Tobias had made him buy and Brendon had made it quite clear that he didn't either. But at the same time it would look strange if he turned up in something that was completely different from what he'd been wearing the previous night. He finally, with a sigh, took one of the ridiculous t-shirts, but allowed himself a pair of relatively loose jeans and a quite plain hoodie. It still felt weird to wear sneakers, but those were strangely comfortable and didn't really bother him.

After combing his hair and grudgingly adding the frame of black eyeliner around his eyes, inwardly cursing Tobe as he did, he found a jacket, pulled it on and walked out the door, making sure to lock it behind him. He looked down at his watch only to realize that if he didn't hurry up, he was going to be late, all over an issue as stupid as clothes. And thus he sped up, jogging down the halls (and nearly getting lost, again, due to not taking the time to consider his turns and what stairs to use) but stopping in one of the small, cozy common rooms, the one belonging to the tenth-graders if he was correct.

His phone, the one he'd been given for the assignment, was ringing, and not answering could cause an alarm and several other things that may not be that good. With a slight groan he tugged the cell phone out of his pocket and took the call. "Yeah?"

"Ry," a cheerful voice said. "It's Tobe. Get there all right?"

"I got here fine," Ryan answered, biting back another groan. "Any reason why you called me?"

"You didn't answer my email," his roommate answered in an uncharacteristically serious voice. "I got worried, okay. You need to answer stuff immediately so I know you're all right."

"Sorry," Ryan answered, starting to walk again. "I'm fine, I've just had a lot on my mind. Remember high school?"

Tobias started laughing heartily. "Yeah. I don't envy you. So, did Princey like the clothes?"

"No, asshole," the younger of the two answered with a groan. "I'm busy now too, so... I'll call you back sometime, okay?"

"Yeah, okay," Tobias said. "Don't take too long. Hey, good luck, kid. Take care of yourself."

"You too," Ryan answered before ending the call, walking the last piece of way across the entrance hall as he stuffed the device back into his pocket before he looked up to see three familiar teenage boys waiting there already. "Sorry I'm late," he stated, biting his lip slightly before reminding himself not to. "My brother has terrible timing."

Spencer nodded, "no problem. The car's waiting for us, so we best be off," He started towards the doors, Brendon already in front of him. When they reached the car (which was really a black limo), Brendon shrugged and rolled his eyes, muttering something unintelligible. They all got into the back, the four of them fitting comfortably and with a lot of room to spare. There was a tiny television hanging from the ceiling of the car, a small mini-fridge and a makeshift table. Brendon took the seat nearest the the dividing wall between themselves and the driver and then watched as his friends all sat down, silent as the car pulled away from the curb.  
  
"Might as well get comfortable," he said at last, as he reached up and switched on the television. It was at the music station, as always, and he sat back and listened.  
  
"Any ideas what we're going to get up to tonight?" Jon asked, glancing around. "Movie? Just walking around downtown? Shopping?" His eyes lit up at the last thing on his small list and his eyes widened hopefully. Spencer didn't answer, just laughed and shook his head. He didn't really mind what they did. Instead, he looked over to Ryan for an idea.  


Ryan knew that to fit the role, he should support the shopping idea. But he also knew his 'education' wasn't thorough enough, and that if any of the others knew the first thing about designers he'd be busted immediately on his lack of knowledge. Seemed he'd have to do online research on a subject he hated quite soon. But that didn't really solve the problem of tonight. "What is there to do?" he finally asked, hoping that the fact that he didn't just jump at the suggestion of shopping wouldn't give anything away.

Brendon, along with Jon and Spencer, shrugged and said nothing for a few minutes as they all looked out the tinted windows. Finally, he sighed and cleared his throat. "I guess shopping around and watching movies is all, really. But it's not, like, a big mall-type shopping. Mostly it's just small vintage shops with odd, but cool, clothing. I don't know if you'd like it," Brendon said, snickering lightly, before Spencer shot him a scathing look.

"It's really fun, though. Old town with old buildings and old people." Spencer grinned. "Oh, and the best ice cream ever, too."

"Ice cream definitely sounds good," Ryan said in agreement, not even lying. It had been too long since he'd last had any. "And the rest is nice as well. As for the clothes... sometimes it can be fun enough to just look at things. You know, stuff can be nice even though you'd never wear it?" Not a lie either. Dresses, some of them anyway, were pretty, but he'd be damned if he wore one. He leaned back in the seat with a small smile, actually finding himself looking forward to the outing now.

Brendon sniffed and nodded stiffly. The rest of the ride passed in relative silence. They didn't really have much to discuss, after all. Once they'd arrived, Brendon donned the pair of old sunglasses he kept near the seat, knowing it would do the trick. He exited the car and quickly looked around, happy to see that downtown wasn't even close to busy. He waited for his friends before walking away from the car. He knew the ice cream shop that Spencer had been talking about and it wasn't very far from where the car had dropped them off. He fixed the collar on his polo shirt and dusted it off, even though it was hardly needed. He pulled out his wallet from the pocket of his khakis shorts and checked it, making sure everything was there, much like he'd done before leaving his room over an hour ago. He looked back briefly to make sure they were following him before continuing down the street.  
  
When he stopped in front of the small ice cream shop, he waited for everyone to catch up and held the door open as they filed inside. Once they were all at the counter, he peered beyond the glass window and at all the flavours of ice cream, trying to decide what he wanted. "I'm going to have chocolate-chip mint," Jon announced, glancing at Spencer and smiling.  
  
"I'm having chocolate-chip cookie dough," Spencer said, nodding. Both he and Jon always got the same thing. Spencer looked over at Ryan to see what he'd get, not taking any notice of the woman waiting patiently behind the counter.  


"Do they have caramel?" Ryan found himself asking with a small smile. Changing his tastes in food was not something he'd have to do, and for that he was grateful. "Otherwise strawberry is fine. I like the simpler stuff." He looked around himself slowly, taking in the cozy layout of the small shop, feeling oddly comfortable for the first time in days. He definitely liked this place.

The lady behind the counter nodded, "we have caramel," she said. She then waited on Brendon, frowning slightly to see a young man wearing sunglasses inside and this late in the evening. Brendon had his head ducked, looking through all the flavours as he sucked his bottom lip into his mouth. Finally, he looked up with a smile.

"Coffee, please." He asked, meticulously polite as always. The coffee flavoured ice cream had chocolate-covered coffee beans in it, and it was almost making him salivate. "And we'll all take two scoops and in those waffle cones, please. How much?" He was already reaching for his wallet and walking towards the cash register. The lady punched in their orders, even as Spencer opened his mouth to protest.

"That will be 16.93, please," the lady said with another smile as Brendon gave her a twenty. She gave him his change before busying herself with preparing their ice cream.

Ryan couldn't help but feel bad as Brendon paid. He knew the boy didn't even like him, hadn't honestly wanted him to come along. So why do something like that. Being polite, he finally realized. Brendon had been raised to be polite, to be a good ruler. And, in a way, Ryan supposed, the Prince may be unconsciously playing host right now. After all, Ryan was foreign. "Thank you," he finally said, following it up with a meek smile. He'd protest, but didn't want to create an awkward situation, and somehow comfortable mixed with the feeling of having no idea what to do with himself, at all. "So, uhm," he started before trailing off, still unsure about pretty much everything.

Brendon shrugged, "no big deal," he said, taking an ice cream cone as it was handed to him. He inspected it before passing it off to Spencer. The boy smiled softly and shook his head. Sometimes Brendon amazed him. How could somehow be so withdrawn from so many people, and yet still be so nice? But, being nice was a habit, and Spencer knew that. He still believed that Brendon wanted to do it, though. It made him feel better. When Jon and Ryan got their ice creams, he grinned at them and licked the side of his own, waiting for Brendon, who joined them only seconds later.

"I've never tasted caramel ice cream," Jon said, eyeing Ryan. "Mind if I have a lick, Andy-Poo?" He snickered, liking that he'd used Ryan's middle name and the boy would probably hate him for it. It was probably like using Brendon's middle name; you got glared at for it and maybe even ignored. He bounced on the balls of his feet in anticipation.

"Well," Ryan mumbled, suddenly seeing an opening. Some day Brendon would have to find out who he 'was', and letting him guess on his own, gradually, was better than springing it on the much younger boy, he'd imagine. "You aren't going to find out about it like that Walker. I don't appreciate the 'poo', but I actually have nothing against my middle name, just that specific abbreviation. It's Ryan or Drew to you, and perhaps I'll consider."

Before Jon could respond, Brendon spluttered, some of the ice cream that had been in his mouth dripping onto his bottom lip. He quickly licked it up, then narrowed his eyes. "Your middle name is Andrew?" he asked suspiciously, but also quite surprised. He let his mind wrap around it before shaking his head. No, this meant nothing. It was simply a coincidence. Brendon looked away, obviously bothered by something that neither Jon nor Spencer could understand.  But... Drew, computer Drew, had said that he was moving, hadn't he? Oh, fuck. Quickly, Brendon went back to looking passive, but didn't lift his gaze from the ground.

Jon cleared his throat, brows furrowed. "Uh, anyway..." he trailed off, looking at Spencer questioningly. Unfortunately, his friend merely shrugged.

"Ryan Andrew Hastings," Ryan quickly clarified, shrugging slightly. "Doesn't get much plainer than that." He let out a slight laugh at it before falling silent, the awkward feeling overtaking him again. "My brother," he added, "half-brother, two years older; when we were small he could neither say Ryan nor Andrew, and it ended up being Drew and to some people it has stuck. I guess Tobe was a little slow on the uptake on learning to speak. Sadly, though, he's learned and now he won't shut up." And he decided to end his monologue with that, taking a lick of the ice cream. It really was good.

Brendon cleared his throat, remaining silent. Finally, he looked back up (though didn't meet any one's eye) and shrugged. "Well, let's get outside, shall we? Walk around and such." After that, he hurried out quickly, glad that he was wearing the sunglasses and hiding the shock he still felt. He saw Spencer fall into step beside him and sighed heavily.  


"So, Ryan, while I was stalking you on my computer yesterday, I noticed that I couldn't find anyone by the name of Ryan Andrew Hastings anywhere," Jon started, only to have Spencer smack him on the arm. "What?!" he asked, incredulous. "I'm just saying, man. So, do your parents keep to themselves a lot, Ryan? Is that it? Are they criminals? Have they done something very bad and are now hiding from the world?" He addressed Ryan again, eyebrows raised. Brendon couldn't help the chuckle that escaped at Jon's questions.  


Ryan mentally swore and made note to at least make a website for his 'father''s company as soon as possible. "Why would there be any hits on my name?" he asked. "I haven't done anything extraordinary. I'm seventeen years old. And when I use the Internet myself, I just use Drew. Search that and you'll get some results." And he knew there were results on that. When the bureau had first started speaking with Brendon online they'd constructed an elaborate, believable Internet identity, including email addresses, website memberships, journals with backdated entries, everything. "And as I already told you, my father runs the family company, which, by the way, is perfectly legitimate. He's a little old-fashioned, though. It's only been a few weeks since we finally talked him into hiring someone to build the company a website. It's not up yet, as far as I know."

"Mhmm..." Jon stroked his chin thoughtfully. Before he could reply, though, Brendon cut him off.

"You're really odd. You know that, Jon? I mean... leave the poor guy alone. You really don't have to scare everyone away." Brendon sighed and shook his head as Spencer nodded in agreement. "Whatever, let's just walk around. And Jon, stop being so nosy. If you're going to ask questions incessantly, at least make them funny."

Jon, who had been pouting, perked up at this.  "Okay! I've got it, I've got--" he stopped talking and walking as two girls walked by, their long hair playing around their faces and their hips going from side to side as they walked. Jon smiled at them and whistled, turning as they walked by and watching them until they disappeared into a shop. "Mmm, well, Ryan. How do you like the girls here, eh?" He had a permanent smile plastered to his face when he turned back. Spencer snickered and Brendon shook his head, rolling his eyes.

Ryan looked up, only then noticing the girls. Exactly the same as back home, really. He shrugged and decided to be blunt. "Not into them," he simply stated, secretly wondering if Jon would actually understand what he'd meant or just think of it as an insult to the country. Either way the reaction should be funny, and when Ryan met Spencer's eyes with a slight grin he could see the amusement on the boy's face as well.

Jon gaped at Ryan, having stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. This caused Brendon and Spencer to stop with him as well, both looking annoyed. "Do you..." he stopped, not knowing how to go on. "What's that supposed to mean?!" he practically shrieked, eyes wide. Brendon snorted behind him and shook his head.

"I think that's pretty obvious, Jon. Please don't tell me you're that stupid." He chuckled, hiding his slight surprise. Ryan didn't look like the type to be forward about things like that, but the boy kept shocking Brendon, anyway.

Ryan actually had to fight laughter and was surprised to realize that despite the lies, despite everything, he was having a good time. "Don't worry, though," he said, observing Jon's wide-eyed look. "I'm not really into bulky, overly curious and obnoxious." He kept a smile on his lips to take the sting off the words even though he couldn't deny that the boy was still annoying him. "Tend to go for slight and brainy, so you're not in any immediate danger."

Brendon coughed, feeling slightly uncomfortable. "That might be a good thing for Jon," he mumbled, before shaking his head and frowning at himself. Spencer, however, heard him and dissolved into giggles, seemingly for no reason. Jon narrowed his eyes at them before he shook his head and resumed walking. When Spencer stopped laughing, finally, he looked at Brendon and smiled.

"You're not brainy, Bren. Sorry," he started laughing again when Brendon blushed bright red and shoved him away.

"Anyway," Ryan said. "As exciting as my sexuality and preferred types might be, didn't we have plans?" He was once again fighting back laughter. The hue of Brendon's face was truly amusing. As was the fact that Jon didn't seem to know what to say at all. Suddenly, though, he swallowed a little. Perhaps the Prince's whole charade meant that he had to appear to have a certain attitude to things like this too. And perhaps Jon's reaction wasn't really all that amusing, but more of an indication of disgust. And he inwardly bashed himself over the head for actually feeling insecure. He wasn't even gay, that wasn't  _him_ , it was Hastings, Hastings who didn't even exist. Being self-conscious about something like this was just stupid. But perhaps he should use it. "That is," he muttered, deciding to go with it. "If you still want to have plans with me."

Brendon snorted rather loudly at that, making Spencer jump slightly. "Don't be stupid," he said, sounding condescending, though he didn't really mean to. "That doesn't matter to us.

"It doesn't?" Jon asked, seemingly out of nowhere. He looked at Brendon, both eyebrows raised. "You practically drove that one guy out of school when he came out last year! That senior, don't you remember?!" He sounded hysterical, even to himself, but he was feeling lost right now and this is how he reacted. "God, Brendon. What the hell is wrong with you?"  
  
Brendon had the decency to look embarrassed. "Things have changed," he said firmly, lips pressed tightly together after. He took a deep breath and continued. "I was an asshole last year and I was my dad's puppet, which meant I was a slave to his religion," he said this with his voice lowered to a harsh whisper, lest anyone hear. Jon sighed and stepped back.  
  
"Whatever, man. I don't..." he looked at Ryan and shook his head, sneering slightly. "Whatever."

Ryan was slightly baffled at the response. Brendon's initial response had made him think things were going well, but Jon's sudden sneer and slightly harsh comments had him feeling sort of vulnerable, and he bit his lip slightly, not even trying to stop himself this time. He took a few quick strides, getting a few paces ahead of the others. Honestly, he wasn't even sure what was bothering him, but he wanted, needed, to do something. He just wasn't sure what at all.

The others may have been speaking softly amongst themselves while they walked. He wasn't sure, wasn't listening. Instead he forced himself to pay attention to the buildings around him, to the cozy atmosphere of the town. It was nice. He'd probably have enjoyed it under different circumstances. And suddenly he noticed a seemingly misplaced neon sign down an alley a little off the road they were following, declaring in loud green and blue that it was a laser tag rink. And suddenly he was grinning despite himself. Shooting, even though it didn't really count like this, had had a calming effect on him for some reason ever since he was small and his father had taught him how to hold his old rifle, and the effect of it had only grown since the academy. He abruptly turned and started to walk down the alley, sort of not really cared if the others were following or not. He could go in on his own, find a nice spot on the wall to hit or something. Not very funny, but still sort of therapeutic.

"Oh, god," Brendon said, following quickly after Ryan. He smirked. "You want to play laser tag?" He asked, disbelieving. Beside him, Spencer chuckled. "I hear it's fun, but... isn't it for children?" He frowned and peered up at the sign. A few seconds later, Jon turned into the alley, and then stayed near the entrance, leaning against the wall. Obviously, he wouldn't be joining.

"Oh, well. Let him pout," Spencer said, when Brendon turned back and huffed in frustration at Jon. "Let's go."

Ryan smiled slightly upon noticing that at least some of them had followed him. "You know that a sign of maturity is to stop thinking in terms of 'for children' and 'for adults', right?" he asked rhetorically. "It's fun, of course I want to play. But we'll have trouble with the teams." He walked through the door and up to the counter where an old lady with thick glasses was standing, peering sharply at them when they entered before smiling broadly.

"What can I help you boys with?" she asked, voice withered but surprisingly steady and loud.

"We'd like to play if the lane's free," Ryan stated quickly, already inching a hand into his pocket for his wallet.

"Of course," she answered, grin growing wider as she looked them over. "Uneven teams?"

"I guess I could go alone," Ryan mused out loud, shrugging slightly. Unless Brendon had received training Ryan shouldn't have trouble holding his own against the two boys.

"I could play with you," the lady stated, her whole face seeming to light up with the idea. "Keeps me young." She seemed almost giddy for a moment. "I'll even give you a discount." And before even waiting for answers, she hollered for "Herold!" to "Look after the business!" and ushered them through a door before the old man even had time to fully appear from between the game consoles to take over the counter.

Spencer caught Ryan's eyes, confused, but the older of them merely shrugged, following the old lady who was in the middle of introducing herself as Betty Miller while she led them into a small, darkened room and urged them to take off the outer layers of shirts and threw stiff plastic vests at them, red at Brendon and Ryan and a green one at Spencer while she pulled a matching green one on herself, informing them that the bell would ring in two minutes and then they'd have half an hour before going over the rules.

Brendon looked slightly panicked as he tried to figure out the vest. "I-I don't... um. Wh-what am I supposed to do?" He asked, slightly apprehensive, and looked at Ryan. He'd pushed the sunglasses up over his eyes and into his hair in order to see, and what he could see was Ryan having no trouble at all and looking confident. He took a deep breath, allowing himself to calm. He hated not being in control of situations. He quickly pulled on the vest, though it felt horribly awkward, and looked around, eyebrows knit.

Spencer, on the other hand, had put on his vest with ease and was laughing with the old woman, no doubt at something she'd said. Brendon growled. He hated when others did better than he did.

Ryan was examining the laser rifle attached to the vest, weighing it in his hands and testing out different grips until he felt comfortable with the toy. Then he looked up to see Spencer and the lady both laughing at something and Brendon looking more than just a little vexed and uncomfortable. "Hey," he muttered, gingerly placing a hand on the boy's shoulder. "If you don't want to, it's fine. Jon's probably bored by now."

Brendon scoffed and shook his head. "Absurd! Of course I want to! Why wouldn't I?" He narrowed his eyes at Ryan. He shrugged Ryan's hand away and picked up the same little toy he had in his hand. "What in the name of..?" He muttered, frowning as he examined the hunk of plastic. "I just... I just don't know how this works, all right? And if you expect me to be good with guns, don't get your hopes up." He sniffed in disdain and rolled his eyes.

For the umpteenth time that evening Ryan bit back a laugh. "Hold it like this," he instructed, holding his own gun to instruct. "You can't drop it since it's strapped to the vest, so don't worry about that." He moved his hand in again, a little more apprehensive about touching this time since Brendon's reaction had been negative the last time. He moved his finger the rest of the way, though, moved Brendon's fingers a little. "And you can't hold your finger there, or you'll block the shots and kill yourself every time you try to shoot someone else. Other than that, you need to protect the plates on your chest and back. Those are the sensors. And the things you need to try to hit on the others." He pulled his hand back, placing it comfortably on the plastic gun. "And don't worry about that, I'm plenty good with them. My father loves to hunt. Has been taking me since I was little."

"Right," Brendon mumbled, hoping that the darkness had hidden his blush. Again. He felt like a pre-teen. "What if I just hid behind you? Would that work?" he asked, looking hopeful. He really would be crap at this little game. "Unless you'd like to teach me how to shoot, you know. I don't play sports or anything, so I've never learned how to aim. Well, actually, I've done some archery. Does that count? That must mean I have good aim. It was a long time ago, though..." he trailed off, realizing he was rambling, and cleared his throat before averting his eyes from Ryan. What the hell was wrong with him? He was getting rather annoyed with himself.

"That should definitely help," Ryan stated, smiling slightly before raising his toy. "You need to look straight over the top of the gun and have the target straight in your line of vision, but since it's laser, you don't have to raise it to shoot longer. Other than that I guess the aiming is still the same," he continued with a shrug. "It's not that hard. Besides, having fun is more important than winning. Even if losing to an old lady would be kind of..." He trailed off, wrinkling his nose slightly before releasing a small laugh, letting the words stand on their own. "But don't worry, you'll catch on soon. Just look out for the mines and the robots if there are any of those. Remember that it's okay to run or to take cover. And if you see their base, you yell for me. Remember that the base works as a mine as well."

"Okay," Brendon took a deep breath. "Okay, I can do this. Yes." He mumbled to himself, mostly convincing that he could do it, until Spencer made stupid laser noises from a few feet away, pretended to shoot Brendon. Brendon rolled his eyes.

"Bang! You're dead, Bren!" He said, then continued shooting and making ridiculous noises. Beside him, the old woman rolled her eyes before thumping him hard on the arm. Spencer jumped in surprise and looked at her. "What?!" He asked, but she simply shook her head and sighed. Brendon snorted. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad, after all.

Suddenly the bell rang and the old lady opened the door leading into an even darker room with disco-style flashing lights and UV lamps making the orange and green graffiti on the walls light up.

Ryan could already feel the adrenaline working up in him just by being in the room. He and Tobe had gone for one on ones several times at a lane not far from where they lived. In Ryan's opinion it was a great thrill, probably the most fun way of getting exercise he knew. "We have a minute now to get away from the others and to our base," he told Brendon, smiling but refraining from grabbing the boy's arm. "It said on the sign that's it's three levels, so it's rather large. Too large to just snipe about, so yeah." He cocked an eyebrow. "Anything you need to know before we get started?"

"Uhh..." Brendon faltered, then quickly shook his head. "I'll just, um, do what you do?" He asked meekly, shrugging. He could hear Spencer and the old woman, faintly. "Yeah, I'll be fine." He bit his lip, clearing his throat, and suddenly his face was emotionless again. He was on guard. No more anxiety. He couldn't afford it right now. "Let's kick their asses." He said. He almost laughed when he heard the old woman let out some sort of battle cry- or, that's what it sounded like to him. It could have been something completely different. Maybe she was scolding Spencer. Maybe she was just really excited. She scared him a bit, but he didn't show that.

"Let's," Ryan replied, unable to hold back a grin. After the new school, new people, new country, new everything, it felt good to feel on top of a situation, be in control. In a way it had also been amusing to really get the first feel that Brendon really was nearly seven years younger than him. Slightly disconcerting, considering the fact that that served as a reminder that his assignment was to exploit a mere child, but also oddly comforting. It made him less insecure. He kept walking, speeding up to a slight jog. "Let's get to the second or third level. That way it'll be easier to survey everything and gain an advantage." He sped up again, throwing a grin over his shoulder. "Don't get lost."

Brendon followed him, looking over his shoulder and glancing around every few seconds. He held the toy in front of him, eyes narrowed and lips pursed. Was this how it felt to be a spy? If so, it was pretty cool. "Is this how it feels to be a secret agent?!" Brendon asked, then laughed at his own question, snorted. He shook his head and followed Ryan closely, not wanting to lose him. "Do we have a strategy?" He asked, eyes wide. Crap. He didn't know what he was doing! They were definitely going to lose this and it would be all Brendon's fault.

Ryan almost jumped at the first question, scared for a moment that there was more to it than innocent joking. He managed to calm himself down quickly, though, keeping his reaction carefully neutral. "No idea. How would I know?" He forced a laugh. "If so, I guess it would be pretty neat, though." He adjusted the gun strap and vest on his narrow shoulder, making it slightly more comfortable. "We should stay close, but not too close. If we're too close we could end up shooting each other, but one of us could need help, so we can't be far apart. If you stay behind me, just in sight, it should be fine until we need to think of something else."

Brendon nodded to himself. He was tempted to go rolling about on the floor, or something equally stupid and childish. He stopped himself, however, when he heard a noise behind him. Jumping, he quickly looked around, stopping dead in his tracks. He didn't see anything. Maybe the excitement was causing him to hear things. He stayed there for several moments, just making sure, before turning back around to find Ryan. "Shit," he muttered, realizing he'd lost sight of the other boy. He mentally kicked himself for stopping without so much as a warning. If this were real, he would probably get killed. Just fantastic. Groaning, he continued walking in the direction Ryan had been going, hoping he would find his team mate soon enough.

It took a bit before Ryan started to find it strange that the occasional talking from behind him had ceased and he turned around only to realize that he was alone. Brendon was nowhere in his short, narrow line of sight, random walls and barrels blocking him from seeing too far. He groaned slightly, mentally chastising himself for not being more attentive. Even if it was just a game, he was still trained to work as a part of a team, not just alone. Okay, so teamwork hadn't been his strong side, but he still shouldn't lose someone he was supposed to work with. Good thing he'd decided against becoming a bodyguard. He'd have sucked at that. Hitching in a deep breath, he turned around and started to make his way back, looking around attentively.

Brendon hummed to himself, still looking around for Ryan, ducking behind walls when he felt the urge to. Not because he had to, but just because he wanted to. He tried to look nonchalant, but his heart was practically beating out of his chest. It was an odd feeling, to say the least. He really wished he would find Ryan soon. He didn't want to be alone in this, though he would never admit it. When he saw something gray move by him, he stopped and ducked further under the wall, before looking up over the ledge. Aha. The old woman, and she was alone. Brendon smirked to himself. All right. He could do this. He could hit her. It would be easy as pie. Maybe. Taking a deep breath, Brendon took aim, even though his hands shook a little. He waited until she turned, unaware, and then he quickly took his chance and shot, before quickly ducking down again, and running away, bent over and hopefully out of sight. He almost laughed out loud. He didn't even know if he'd hit her and he was acting all giddy!

Ryan was looking straight ahead and hadn't noticed the fact that there was an opening in the wall to his left. Not until someone propelled out, that was, knocking his lanky body although the person really wasn't much bigger himself. And a moment later Ryan was on his back on the floor, a startled shriek managing to escape his lips before the wind was knocked out of him as the other person - Brendon, he realized - landed on him.

Brendon did laugh then. Really, really loudly. He shook against Ryan, eyes shut tight. When he stopped, he looked down at Ryan and blinked. "I shot the old woman," he whispered, letting his head fall onto Ryan's shoulder. It wasn't long, however, before he remembered himself and sighed, pushing himself off Ryan. When he was up, he held out a hand to Ryan. "She's probably still around," he said. "We should go, eh? Sorry for stopping and losing you, by the way. I thought I'd heard something."

"Don't worry about it," Ryan said, coughing slightly and somehow laughing at the same time, pleased that Brendon wasn't angry or anything of the like. "And congrats on shooting her. Way to go, mate." He reached up and let Brendon clasp their hands together to pull him up. When he was standing again, he quickly dusted himself off, still smiling. "You know," he added. "Right now I'm definitely glad you aren't Jon. Or larger. Damn." Then he took a deep breath, realizing he was on the verge of starting to ramble. "Let's try to find them again. Try to keep up this time, will you?" He winked quickly before starting to head off in the direction Brendon had come from.

Brendon chuckled and nodded, quickly falling into step behind Ryan. In his head, he chanted, 'I shot her, I shot her,' almost like it had won him the game. He soon reminded himself that it hadn't and they probably had far to go. He wondered what Jon was doing outside, sad that they weren't sharing this. Oh, well. They would come back. He was sure Jon was just being a spoiled brat. Brendon shook his head at himself. "Do you think they've stayed together or separated?" He asked Ryan, making sure to keep quiet.

"If you only saw Mrs. Miller, chances are they've split up," Ryan answered, keeping his gaze straight ahead, but constantly making sure to strain to pay attention to the sound of the younger boy's footsteps even over the heavy bass and drums of the music played over the speaker system. Suddenly he heard something more, a clatter of shoes against the floor, falling rhythmically below them. And then he grinned, moving over to the ramp and getting to his knees to peer down. It only took a moment to spot Spencer, and Ryan immediately dropped to the floor to be harder to spot. He raised the toy took aim and fired, grinning slightly as he saw the lights around Spencer's back sensor blink and then go out before waiting the five seconds it would take until the boy could be shot again.

Brendon giggled gleefully. "Score!" he mouthed, his chest swelling with pride as he watched Ryan hit Spencer. He dropped to the ground near Ryan and surveyed Spencer's bewildered expression for a few moments. "Can I shoot him?" He whispered, looking at Ryan. "Or will that give away our position?" He grinned, feeling as though he were in a movie.

Ryan flashed Brendon a quick grin. "It shouldn't," he whispered back. "Just stay close enough that it looks like it came from the same place. I'll keep an eye out for Mrs. Miller. Hopefully she isn't shooting our base right now. She has the unfair advantage of knowing where it is beforehand." He held back a chuckle at the strange movements Spencer was making, swirling around himself as if expecting to find one of them just there. "Oh, you can shoot now, by the way."

Brendon smiled and took aim at Spencer, waited for him to stop spinning around a little, and then fired. When the lights on Spencer's vest sensor blinked again, the boy threw his hands in the air and cursed loudly, looking around even more. Brendon bit back laughter and rolled away from the side as to not be seen. He turned to look at Ryan. "How many times do we shoot him before he dies?"

"When he's been shot five times he has to go back to base to reload," Ryan explained. Suddenly he was smirking. "That's it," he stated. "We shoot him five times and follow him back to their base. Then one of us lures him away and the other one takes out the base." He grinned and quickly took aim at Spencer, shooting him nonchalantly once again. "Bloody brilliant."

Brendon chuckled, waited, then shot again. "Well, I'll let you have the honors of shooting the last one," he said to Ryan, bowing his head slightly. He rolled out of the way, keeping an eye on Spencer, and then glanced behind him, just in case. Didn't really want anyone sneaking up behind  _him_. "Oh, Spencer," he whispered, snickering. "Poor, poor, Spencer."

Ryan laughed silently and delivered the last shot, barely using any time to get aim. Spencer wasn't that far away and the sensor was much larger than the bull's eyes he was used to on the practice range. "Come on," he muttered, getting to his feet. He smiled, holding his hand out in a way that was quite similar to what Brendon had done for him just a few minutes earlier.

Brendon smirked and followed.  


***

"Yes!" Brendon pumped his fist into the air while pushing his glasses back over his eyes with his free hand. "We win, we win!" He said in a sing-song voice, cackling at Spencer's pout as they made their way out of the establishment after having paid. Spencer folded his arms across his chest and shook his head, but couldn't suppress a small smile.

Ryan grinned, pushing damp locks behind his ears. He bumped shoulders with Brendon lightly, half accident and half friendly fun. He was astonished by how much a simple game, half an hour of fun, had managed to open Brendon up, give him expressions and put excitement in his voice, make him seem like a normal teenage boy. And for a few moments his assignment seemed easier than it had ever appeared before. Then work was gone from his mind again as he chuckled. "Be nice to poor Spencer, Brendon," he said, laughing slightly as he spoke. "Don't mock him; feel sorry for him. The poor lad got over two thousand points negative."

Brendon laughed loudly at that until he noticed Jon sitting near the wall of the building and looking thoroughly bored. Jon looked up when they all came walking out, eyebrows knit. Brendon stopped laughing and Spencer sighed, shaking his head. "Well, well, well," Brendon said, one eyebrow raised. Sighing, Jon pushed himself up until he was standing.

"Hi, guys..." he trailed off, bit his lip, looked over to Ryan. "Sorry for being a jerk," he mumbled.

Ryan managed a small smile, nothing like the grin from a moment earlier, but just as genuine. Perhaps the Walker kid wasn't really as bad as he'd thought. "Don't worry about it," he said with a shrug. "At least you didn't punch me or anything that extreme. No hard feelings."

Jon smiled widely and nodded, blushing just the tiniest bit. They all started walking once again, Brendon checking the watch on his wrist. "It's eight o'clock. We'll leave at nine so we get to school a little bit before curfew, all right?"

Spencer nodded, "what are we doing until then, though?" He asked, looking around as they emerged from the alley. All that was left, really, was roaming around and maybe checking out the shops. He watched as Brendon's face became the impassive mask again and held back his sigh. Well, he'd expected that, but it was sad to see. Jon seemed to think the same, because he frowned at Brendon momentarily before looking away.

Racking his brain for something to do, Ryan inched his hands into his pockets uncomfortably, but even if they were being squished it was nicer than having them out without knowing what to do with them. He tried to remember what the kids he went to high school with had liked to do back in the day, but his complete disinterest as a teenager was definitely coming back to bite him in the ass.

Jon was the one who suddenly lit up, grinning, his mood completely changed since they'd left him. "The hockey place!" he exclaimed. "When they aren't practicing, it's used as a normal ice skating rink, remember? So if you aren't over your childish streak yet, we could do that. I haven't skated in forever!"

Ryan bit back his groan, rolling his eyes slightly. He'd gone ice skating once with Tobias the previous year on one of the outdoors rink. He was still pretty sure his roommate had just wanted to see the younger man make a fool of himself. And that was indeed what had happened. Finally he'd adopted the right mask and he looked up, smiling. "I couldn't skate if my life depended on it," he confessed. "But a bruised tailbone sounds like fun. Let's go."

Brendon groaned. "Count me out. I am not putting myself through that in front of you people," he shook his head, completely serious. "I'll just have fun watching." Spencer rolled his eyes at this and huffed. Stupid Brendon worrying about what people thought about him again. He didn't bother arguing, though. When Brendon had stupid notions in his head, nobody could contradict him or make him change his mind. After a few seconds, Spencer smiled at Jon and nodded.

***

The skating rink was small, but none of them had expected something extravagant in such a small town. The arena was relatively empty, save for a janitor and the man who was to help them get their skates. They'd entered, Jon leading the small group with a confident smile, and went up to the small booth. "We're here for the Free Skate," he announced, and the old man looked at him over his spectacles. His eyes drifted over each boy before he nodded and leaned forward, sliding the glass window open.  


"I'll need each of your shoe sizes," he said, straight to the point as he stared them down. Jon chuckled and nodded.

"Eleven," he said, puffing his chest out. Spencer rolled his eyes and Brendon chuckled behind him. The old man turned around and disappeared for a few short moments, before returning with black ice skates and handing them over to Jon.  


"Next!" he hollered unnecessarily and Spencer pushed Ryan to the front.

"A twelve," Ryan answered with a small shrug. "Thirteen if the shoes are just generally small." At Jon's wide-eyed look he quickly held his hands up, grinning. "Long limbs, mate."

Spencer went up next, pushing Brendon aside. Jon walked away towards the bleachers, taking off his shoes and unlacing the skates. Brendon plopped down next to him, soon followed by Spencer. "Wanna help me tighten my skates?" Jon asked Brendon, looking at him hopefully and holding one of his feet up. Brendon rolled his eyes but got up anyway, placing Jon's skate-clad feet between his legs and pulling on the laces as tight as he could as he laced them up. "Thank you!" Jon said, delighted when Brendon had finished. When Spencer cocked an eyebrow, Brendon shrugged.

"I have cousins who loved skating and my mother used to drag me along to their practices and I would watch them get ready..." he trailed off, looking away. Spencer chuckled, lacing up his own skates before standing on wobbly legs and grabbing onto Jon's shoulder for support.

Ryan spent a few minutes with both a twelve and a thirteen, comparing both to the size of the shoes he was wearing before settling on the thirteen and handing the twelve back. Then he quickly hurried after the others to see Jon and Spencer already stumbling their way onto the ice. Oh, well, it wasn't that bad, and Ryan knew he had no room to criticize. In a few minutes he'd have made those two look good.

Plopping down next to Brendon on the bleachers, he pulled the sneakers off his feet and got the skates on instead, satisfied that they had, indeed, been the right fit. "Sure you don't want to come?" he asked, looking up at Brendon briefly before turning his gaze back to the laces. "There's no way you can be worse than I am."

Brendon snorted and shook his head. "No, thank you. I'll pass." He watched Jon and Spencer, holding hands, as they stepped onto the ice and wobbled even more. He smirked when Jon nearly landed on his ass, almost bringing Spencer down with him. Spencer let go of Jon's hand, clearly miffed, and held on to the side board, inching along. He pushed himself along with his hands, his feet gliding effortlessly in the ice. Jon pouted, bringing his body forward slightly and moving his feet so that it looked like he was walking on the ice.

"Okay," Ryan answered. "You get the fun without the bruises then," he added, tying the lace and getting to his feet, half-stumbling across the floor until he reached the line and stepped out gingerly, keeping a strong hold on the side. His feet were gliding nearly frighteningly and he felt like a live version of that one scene from Bambi as he tried to straighten his feet. After a few moments he managed and pushed off from the side. A couple of feet out it suddenly felt as though the floor had been tugged away from under him and he started to fall, managing to roll as he landed so as to not harm one point too much. At least some of the combat training from the academy seemed to come in handy even though his balance still sucked.

Spencer chuckled as he watched Ryan, making a decision to stay near the sides until he truly felt comfortable. Jon was finally getting some of his confidence back as he remembered skating as a child and went faster and faster without falling or even wobbling. He smirked at Spencer, sticking his tongue out at him, before quickly turning and skating backwards. He did it with complete ease. This was like riding a bike, he thought. He laughed out loud as he spun around quickly and did a small jump. When he turned back, Spencer was staring at him, eyes narrowed.

"Where the hell did you learn that?!" He practically yelled, throwing his hands in the air and losing his balance momentarily. Spencer managed to catch himself and not fall, still glaring at Jon, who chuckled and shook his head.  
  
"There are a lot of things you don't know about me, Spence," he said, smirking and then continued skating away and then back again.

Ryan had, by then, managed to roll over and get on his hands and knees, wincing as the cold of the ice bit into the skin of his fingers. He pushed one foot underneath himself, shifting his weight a little and somehow succeeded in getting the other leg upright as well. Then came the slow and tedious process of actually getting all the way up without falling again. He finally got back to his feet, swaying dangerously with his arms out to the sides for better balance and let out a relieved breath. Perhaps he should just follow Spencer's example and stick to the sides. But Ryan had hardly ever been one to stick to the safe side. If he had, he'd either have been in the Navy to avoid a conflict with his father, or he'd be working as a lawyer, someone who hadn't dropped out of law school for a, perhaps, slightly crazy career path.

Taking an unsure step, Ryan started to half-walk, half-glide farther out onto the ice, breathing shallowly with nerves. He hated falling, but as long as he could still get up it would be all right. When Jon sped past him he nearly lost his balance again but this time only down to a crouched position where his hands were touching the ice again before he got up once more and managed to get the rest of the way to the far side board, clinging to it and grinning slightly as a small feeling of safety returned to him.

Jon skated to the sides, but didn't touch them. "Well, Brendon? We're all here having fun and you're just sitting there. I didn't know you were a coward..." he trailed off thoughtfully, then grinned and shook his head before speeding off again. Spencer rolled his eyes as he watched Brendon turn bright red, watched his jaw clench. Brendon flipped Jon off before looking away. Grinning, Spencer turned to Ryan.

"It'd be funny to see Brendon skate," he mused, chuckling quietly.

Ryan grinned slightly. "Guess it would," he agreed. "Jon shouldn't be pushing him, though," he added. "It's not good to mess too much with people's boundaries." He let go of the side with one hand, slowly finding his balance. "Want to try to get back to the other side?"

Spencer looked to the other side and bit his lip. It wasn't very far, but it was far enough that he could fall a few times before getting there. He contemplated getting on his knees and crawling there, but shook his head to rid himself of the thought and turned back to Ryan instead. "Sure, I'll try," he said, nodding. He gripped the board one more time before letting go. "Together?" he asked, looking straight ahead again.

Ryan nodded, releasing the board with the other hand as well and sucked in a deep breath before pushing off. He glided slowly, minding the position of his legs and feet carefully to make sure he wouldn't lose balance. "Slippery surfaces are bloody scary," he stated with a slight laugh, making sure to hold onto the fake accent even as his knees wobbled and he nearly fell again, instinctively reaching out and grabbing Spencer's wrist. Somehow, though, they both managed to stay upright.

Spencer chuckled, then held on tightly to Ryan's hand, moving their fingers around until they were laced together. The grip was better and if he was going to fall, Ryan was going to come down with him. He took a deep breath before pushing himself forward with his right foot behind his left, then alternating. It was almost like walking, really, except you were sliding on every step. "I think I'm getting the hang of it!" he exclaimed excitedly, smiling. Suddenly, Jon came zipping past them and he jerked back as the boy's body almost knocked him over, almost sending them both sprawling to the ground.

"Why the hell are you two holding hands! Christ, stop being so disgusting!" Jon called from over his shoulder, eyes dark with anger. Spencer frowned, but didn't respond. He had no idea what the hell Jon's problem was.

Ryan felt his eyes narrow as he fought to regain his balance once again, tightening his grip when he nearly lost his balance once more. Well, there went the semblance of positive feelings he'd had for Jon. "You know I'm only trying to keep upright, right?" he quickly asked, just wanting to make sure that Spencer wouldn't suddenly read more into it and start getting angry too.

"Just because Jon's an asshole, doesn't mean I am, too. Plus, he's being a hypocrite" Spencer muttered, shaking his head and casting an angry glare in Jon's direction. "He's not usually like this," he said after a few moments in silence, his voice considerably softer. He inhaled deeply, realizing that the boards were only a few feet away. Picking up the pace a little, he reached out his free hand, finally grasping the ugly orange sides and pulling himself and Ryan towards it.

Jon looked back at them, sneering, and shook his head. He made his way off the ice and plopped down beside Brendon. "Look at that," he said, pointing to Spencer and Ryan. "I bet you Ryan's dad is some evil sonuvabitch and he sent his son to spy on you, you know? And him warming up to Spencer is just the thing. He'll probably try to get secrets out of him!" Beside Jon, Brendon shook his head and rolled his eyes behind the dark glasses.

"Don't be an idiot," Brendon said, but kept his eyes on Ryan. "That shit doesn't happen. Why the hell would some British guy want info on me?" He laughed at the thought, but it was a hollow, mirthless sound. He bit his lip and kept his gaze on the two boys skating. Jon laughed quietly, too.

"Yeah, I guess I just don't really trust him. I don't know what Spencer sees in him, anyway." Jon grumbled, sighing heavily. Brendon laughed loudly at that.

"Sounds to me like you're a little bit jealous. Scared Spencer's going to make new friends, Jon?" he asked, his tone of voice suggesting he were talking to a child. Jon narrowed his eyes, remaining silent.

Ryan laughed, practically clinging to the side board. "I thought for sure we were going to fall," he exclaimed. Then he took on a more serious expression. "Thanks," he said in response to Spencer's previous comment. "I appreciate it. But I wouldn't know about Jon. All I've seen him be so far is nosy or snide." He managed to make another smile form on his face, releasing his hand. "This actually is fun, though. And I've only fallen once."

Spencer nodded in agreement. He tried to smile, but probably failed miserably. When they got back to the school, he would find out what the hell Jon's problem was. "Do you want to continue skating, now that Jon is off the ice, or...?" he trailed off, not really knowing what the other option was. They'd only been there a few minutes. There was no way Ryan would want to leave, even if Jon was being a pain in the ass.

"Yeah, let's," Ryan responded, managing another smile in hopes of reassuring the boy. It was odd, he reflected. He hadn't in any way come to make friends, but Spencer was enough of a genuinely good guy to have it nearly nag at his conscience. Over the course of only one day he'd come to find himself liking and respecting the boy, which was more than he'd ever imagined with a Beauregian. "But hey, at least with you around I know your country isn't made up by arseholes." Then he got himself turned around again, facing the way they'd come. "Want to try to get across again?"

Spencer nodded absently, then shook his head and smiled. He pushed himself away from the boards and glided without moving his feet for a few seconds, then pushed himself forward with his left foot, then his right. And so it went. He was getting better at this! He looked over at Ryan and grinned. "Well, this isn't so bad, is it?" he asked excitedly.  


"Not as bad as it was two minutes ago," Ryan concurred, shifting his weight over onto the other leg to slide forward a bit more. "It's actually sort of-" And that was when he lost his balance again, this time not managing to land in a roll but instead straight on knees and hands. His knees felt sore and beat immediately and his hands were stinging from the ice scrapes, yet somehow he couldn't hold laughter back and managed to get the "fun" out to complete the sentence between chuckles.

Spencer gasped sharply when Ryan fell, then smiled nervously when the boy started laughing. He set about helping Ryan get up, shaking his head. "Are you all right?" he breathed, taking hold of Ryan's elbows and hoisting him up. He chuckled softly and looked towards the stands, where Brendon appeared to be holding back laughter and Jon was still pouting. Looking back at Ryan, he made sure to keep his own balance to make sure they both didn't go tumbling down again. "You're going to be sore tomorrow," he pointed out, clucking his tongue.

"Been worse," Ryan stated, trying to cease the laughter that still wanted to erupt from his chest. "Thanks," he added when he was finally upright again. "We should get back to the bleachers, though, or I'll get blood on our clothes." He wrinkled his nose in distaste upon inspecting the small cuts on his palms. "Ow."

Spencer snorted, "of course," he said, wrapping his fingers around Ryan's wrist and tugging him along. They reached the bleachers soon enough and stepped off the ice one by one, walking awkwardly to where Jon and Brendon were sitting. Spencer sat next to Jon, making sure Ryan wouldn't have to, and gave him a reproachful glare. Jon shifted uncomfortably and beside him Brendon shook his head.

"Well, well. Didn't that look like fun," he said, voice dripping sarcasm. Spencer reached over, swatting Brendon's head. "What?!" Brendon asked angrily, rubbing his forehead. "I don't know what you two have to smile about, really. You both looked like idiots out there, just so you know, and I can only say that I'm glad I didn't put myself through that." He finished with a huff, mouth set in a thin line.

Ryan rolled his eyes slightly but still couldn't keep a smile off his face. "It was fun, though. And fun's worth a few cuts and bruises." He was holding his up, palms in the air, to avoid dripping blood onto his pants and was sort of at a loss of how to get his skates off, but for some reason he really didn't want to worry about that at the moment. "And who cares about looking like an idiot as long as they're secure enough in themselves to know they aren't one?"

Brendon made a sound in the back of his throat, but didn't say anything. Spencer went to work taking off his skates, letting them fall off his feet and to the ground when they'd been loosened. He sighed and turned to Ryan, smirking. "You, uh, want some help?" he asked, looking between Ryan's hands and his skates. Jon snorted loudly, angrily, before sliding off the bench and stalking away, wobbling slightly because of the skates. Spencer shrugged and rolled his eyes, then watched Brendon smirk and follow Jon a few feet down, where he was sitting down again and taking off his own skates.

"You know, I'm starting to think my jealous theory is right," Brendon mused. Jon chucked his skate at the boy, making sure not to actually hit him. "Hey! No need to get violent!"

Ryan looked after the two retreating boys for a moment before shaking his head with yet another eye roll. "Yes, please," he quickly replied, stretching out his knees and wincing slightly at the small jolts of pain shooting up and down his legs at the movement. "Yeah," he muttered. "Sore all right."

***

After they got back to the school Ryan had taken some time just going about nothing in particular. He'd taken a well-earned shower, cleaning his hands in the process. Then he'd stumbled out on sore knees to find band-aids for his hands and had gotten a slight scolding from the teacher on duty for not being more careful. Finally, though, he decided it was about time to get email checked and see if Brendon was online.

He turned on the computer and got comfortable in his chair while it loaded. The messenger program opened immediately after he'd typed in three different sets of codes and he wasn't really all that surprised to see 'zeke' already online.

drew: hey. sorry i haven't been on all night. had to check out the new place, you know? hope you had a nice evening regardless.

He winced slightly at the small pangs of pain typing sent through his cut palms but still couldn't help a small smirk. Bits of hints in there, but he still seemed inconspicuous. Hopefully that was the best way to go about it.

Across the hall, Brendon jumped slightly when the bell chimed, telling him someone was messaging him. He got up off his bed and walked to the desk, plopping down in his chair and opening the blinking window. His eyes narrowed at the message, but he couldn't help a slight smile.

zeke: no problem... i was out tonight, as well. do anything exciting?

Truth was, Brendon wasn't as stupid as a lot of people might think. He knew there was something odd about  _Drew_  and he knew that there was also something odd about Ryan. It was right beneath his nose, and he knew that, too. He sighed. He hated being confused and not knowing what was going on.

drew: not anything out of the ordinary. it's a small town, really. but it was fun, definitely. and i'm glad you finally went out too. wouldn't want you rotting up in your house now, would we? i know i don't. did you have fun, though?

Ryan smiled slightly, still content with keeping it vague. If he made it too obvious, dropped too many hints, it would seem like he already knew and wanted Brendon to guess. Of course that was the truth, but it was a dangerous truth, and he knew he couldn't afford people becoming unnecessarily suspicious of him.

zeke: i... actually did. well. for the first part of the night, i had loads of fun. then i kind of just acted like an idiot. i don't like letting my guard down, and i guess i did that for a while... my father wouldn't have liked it.

Brendon sighed. No matter how much he tried to convince himself otherwise, he was still very much the person his father had taught him to be. He liked thinking that he had his own opinions and could do whatever he wanted, but he knew that he was only lying to himself. But, if that's what it would take to be ruler, he supposed that it wasn't so bad. He chewed on his lip as he waited for the reply, only now remembering the moment when Ryan had told Jon to call him 'Drew'. His eyes flitted over the name on the screen and he frowned before shaking his head lightly. He was going mad, thinking that random, loyal, internet friends could suddenly pop up into his life outside of the online conversations. He probably just needed to relax, or sleep.

drew: you need to stop worrying so much about what your father would think about everything. it isn't good for you or for the people around you. and you know that eventually you'll have to learn to be your own person. some day your father won't be there anymore and i seriously hope, for your own sake, that you've learnt how to stand on your own two feet by then.

Ryan winced slightly even as he pressed enter. That could be taken as more than just a little rude, but he hoped that given the long history 'zeke' and 'drew' had of speaking to each other, Brendon wouldn't take too much offense. And he was sort of smiling at the memory of the game of laser tag. It had been a lot of fun, really, and he was surprised to find that he really liked Brendon without his walls up. Perhaps not a good thing. Brendon was the last person here he was supposed to like. But still.

zeke: i realize that perfectly. i do, however, also know that, right now, being my father is the best I could be... every move i make, every word i say is being criticized... i can be my own person when... well, when he's gone. you just... i don't think you'd understand, even if you knew the whole situation.

Brendon sighed, glaring still at Drew's comment, hating that it was somewhat true. But what Brendon had replied with was, sadly, also very true. He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes and left them there, digging into his eyes, for a few silent moments. He could not afford to be different at this point. He could be different when he was safely in his Throne. When he had more control over his own life. Or, well, he hoped he'd have more control, that is. His father seemed happy enough, but a lot of the time, Brendon didn't think the man did anything because he  _wanted_  to do it. Everything seemed like a tedious chore, really.  


drew: perhaps i wouldn't. but remember that you're not the only one coming from a family with hereditary jobs and arsehole fathers who like to control you. perhaps i'd understand more than you think. what i know is that i wasn't happy until i started being myself.

This time Ryan did regret sending the answer the moment he'd pressed enter. That wasn't Ryan Hastings's reply. That was Ryan Ross', and that was one thing he couldn't afford. There was no way for him to unsend it or delete it, though, and he silently cursed the finger that had automatically pressed enter after the full stop. He hadn't been able to help reacting on those words, though, and the bitterness that welled up with them. He clearly remembered his father trying to 'toughen him up' through his childhood and teenage years, remembered being practically cut off when he didn't sign up for the navy. His father had only started talking to him again when he joined the bureau, and even then it was strained and painful. And he doubted it would ever be different.

zeke: you might be right. i don't know. it makes sense but... i don't know if it would be worth it just yet. i know this may be very angering to hear, considering i'm stubborn as a mule, but what you're saying makes complete sense... i just don't think i can put it to use. i'm just... i can't. but let's change subjects, shall we? there's a new guy at my school, you know.

Brendon bit back a smirk and waited innocently for a reply. Behind him, he heard Zach snore and he chuckled. Maybe he'd be nice tonight, though, and not wake the poor man up.

drew: haha, yes, let's. i think we've talked about enough serious shit for one night. oh, really? must be nice to have something new happen for once. so what's he like? potential new friend?

Ryan smiled slightly, secretly quite glad for the subject change. He'd been walking on uncomfortable ground back there. Sure, he could put the reply down to the Hastings family company, could put 'being himself' down to the gay thing. But still. This course of conversation wasn't exactly safe either, though. Of course it seemed good that Brendon would mention him at all, from the view of the assignment of course, but he was still unsure as to how many hints he could afford to drop, how quickly he could afford to be found out.

zeke: not sure... one of my friends seems to like him.. well enough. but he is always going on about giving people chances and blahblahblah. it's funny, though, because, at one point, he told my friend something that made me think of you. but it's probably nothing. just an odd coincidence, though, eh?

Truth was, Brendon didn't believe in coincidences. He was just dropping hints, here, that he knew what was going on. And, well, if he was wrong, he hadn't said anything to jeopardize himself. He smirked at the screen and shook his head. He thought back to the laser tag game and smiled warmly. He'd been disgustingly sweaty after that and not paid any attention to it. Which was very, very odd for him.

drew: oh yeah? cool. well, if he reminds you of me, i'd say you have a shot at getting more friends. just don't abandon me because you found a real life version, eh?

Ryan was doubtful about the situation, but Brendon seemed to be probing and in the end it couldn't really hurt anything to let him guess, could it? That had been a goal anyway.

drew: actually one of the guys i met sort of reminded me of you too. at times. or you know, a time. for a few minutes or something. but hey, it was still cool. made me feel at home a little.

zeke: mhmmmm... well, you know, i should probably be getting to bed sometime soon. have english first thing tomorrow morning and i have a feeling we'll be discussing shakespeare, again, like we did today. as brilliant as shakespeare is, i'm getting quite sick of reading his plays. wouldn't you agree? i mean, we have to read them all through high school, after all. gets tiring.

Brendon chuckled. All right, if  _Drew_  didn't want to say anything, then neither would he. It wasn't as if it really mattered, in the end, who Drew was, or who Ryan was. He would never see or speak to either of them when term ended, probably. But, the simple thought of having his most trusted confidante so close made him exceedingly happy. Not that he would ever admit it.

drew: that actually sounds like a pretty good idea. and shakespeare... i know, we're studying him in my new school too, and it's so weird. i mean, back in england we studied him a couple of terms ago but then that was that. i guess we just focused more on the romantic movement and on contemporary writing. i do like him though. it's just weird how differently everything is interpreted here.

Ryan shook his head with a slight smile. That would be it for now. No more hints dropped or it would seem like he knew and was trying to make Brendon guess. And going to bed did sound like a good idea. He minimized the messenger window and quickly opened his email, typing in several new sets of codes, and waited for it to load.

zeke: yes, i suppose it might be.

Brendon said, remembering Ryan's answer in class and how Mr. O'Connor had made some comment about it being an old way of thinking or something.

zeke: well, i'm off to bed. nearly the weekend and all, and maybe then i'll be able to stay up to all hours of the night.. but, for now, i will talk to you tomorrow night.

All Brendon could think of as he closed the window was that he might talk to him sooner than that. Much sooner. He shook his head as he shut off the computer before getting ready to crawl into his bed and drift into unconsciousness. It sounded like bliss just about now. His brain was whirring as he thought of the days events, but the moment his head hit the pillow, he made a conscious effort to just... stop thinking. Sleep came quickly.

Ryan didn't answer, seeing as how the other boy had already logged off. In the meantime his email had finally loaded and he was relieved to see that there was nothing there. With a yawn he logged off and pulled off unnecessary clothes before pulling on a pair of pajama pants and collapsing into bed.


	5. Chapter 5

"I can't believe we've finished it," Spencer said, grinning from ear to ear. Both he and Ryan were sitting at his desk, the laptop in front of them, and they were now leaning back in their chairs, happy that they had finished their dreaded project. "And it wasn't even that bad, was it? I mean, even if Brendon couldn't help us much..." he trailed off and glanced at his alarm clock. "It's still pretty early, too, only eight o'clock. And we don't have a curfew tonight." Spencer continued grinning as he saved the document on his laptop and then closed it. "I'll go down to the library tomorrow and print out a few copies," he said, before shutting off the laptop.

Earlier that day, when they'd finished classes for the weekend, Spencer had banished Jon from his room so that he could work with Ryan. He'd been doing it all week and Jon was getting more and more aggravated, stomping off to Brendon's room without so much as a 'see you later'. Spencer himself was starting to get seriously annoyed with Jon, but it was mostly because he didn't understand what was going on with his best friend. He sighed and looked back at Ryan. "Want to go find Brendon and.. Jon?" he asked, wincing slightly at the name. He really hoped Jon would behave tonight.

Ryan nodded, holding back a sigh. Over the week he'd started feeling comfortable with Spencer, extremely at ease. Of course he was still pretending, and he felt bad that Spencer just seemed to swallow it up without really doubting him, felt bad for exploiting a nice kid who trusted easily. But at the same time it had helped him really develop his faux personality to a point where it almost felt real, sometimes, even to himself. Jon and Brendon were different. Jon was either an angry asshole who was - more or less subtly - at his throat, or he was grilling him so much it wasn't even funny. And Brendon... around Brendon he had to control the way he acted so much, had to keep his character in check to the point of sending the right glances, sending the right signals. It was tiring. And he was nervous lately because he felt he'd been here long enough to start the next step of his charade, had been around Brendon for long enough that it wouldn't seem too weird to start to develop a crush or whatever. And knowing that he had to start acting like he had soon was only making him more nervous about the whole thing.

None the less, he knew that for anything to work at all, he had to be around Brendon pretty often. And, by default, that quite often meant Jon too, so there was really no easy way around it. He took a deep breath and stretched, feeling slight relief in his muscles as his back cracked, and got up, ready to go.

Spencer got up as well, then led the way out of the room and to Brendon's. He knocked once, not surprised in the least when Zach opened the door, and let them through. Brendon was at his usual place on the desk chair and Jon was sprawled across his bed. Smiling slightly, Spencer climbed into the bed, shoving Jon over to give himself some room. Jon grunted, but Spencer could see the smile playing on his lips.

"Yes, please, invite yourselves into my room and lay anywhere you wish," Brendon said sarcastically, still staring down at a sheet of paper in his lap. He looked up briefly to glare at Spencer's shoes, that were currently resting on his bedding, and only looked back at the paper when Spencer had moved his feet off the bed. Spencer motioned to Ryan to sit down on the comfortable chair near the bed.

"You're making me anxious just standing there," he said, chuckling.

Ryan smiled slightly, shrugging and plopping down in the chair. "I'm so glad we're done with that stuff," he groaned. "I'll be happy if I never see or hear the word 'economy' again." Then he looked around in the room slightly, trying to gauge what everyone had been up to. Doing nothing, it would seem. Probably talking.

Spencer nodded in agreement, laying his head on Jon's shoulder. "I'll be happy if I never have to write an argumentative essay ever again, actually," he said, as Jon tried to push him off his shoulder.

"Get off," Jon whined, pushing Spencer's head with his hand, only to have it come back a few seconds later. He heard Spencer chuckle and gave up, glaring at the ceiling.

"Can you people shut up? I've had enough trouble trying to write this stupid piece of shit journal entry with Jon barging in here all the time," Brendon grumbled, still staring down at the paper. He was chewing on his lip, now, trying to see what else he could possibly write. He'd only had one sentence written and when Jon had come in, all inspiration had left him. It hadn't gotten any better, much to his dismay. He sighed heavily, re-reading his sentence over and over again before crumpling the paper and throwing it onto his desk angrily. "Hate this useless crap," he muttered, sitting back in the chair until it wobbled and threatened to fall over.

"Whatever," Jon said. "It's Friday, you shouldn't be working. What are we going to do, man! There's a party tonight, you know. And tomorrow night. You're always invited, Brendon, and you never go. You're so lame," at his last comment, Jon felt Spencer pinch him in the side. He wriggled away and glared at Spencer, then looked back to Brendon, who was obviously ignoring him.

Biting his lip slightly, Ryan peered over at Spencer and Jon on the bed, thinking quickly. "You know," he muttered, keeping his voice low on purpose. "Perhaps we should go for a bit, let him finish." He shrugged slightly as if to say that it was their choice. "We just got done. We shouldn't keep others from the same." He glanced up at Brendon and adopted the role, glancing away almost immediately and succeeding - at least he thought he did - in calling a slight shade of red onto his own cheeks.

Brendon looked up at Ryan and narrowed his eyes, though he didn't really know why- he still instinctively acted as though Ryan were suspicious, some times, more because it's what he thought he should be doing than out of any sense of mistrust. He sniffed and nodded stiffly. "At least someone seems to have a head on their shoulders," he mumbled. He didn't notice Jon go red with anger, or Spencer smiling knowingly. He didn't even bother to look up when Spencer rolled off the bed and then pulled Jon up, too. Spencer cheerily told him that they'd be waiting in their room, or Ryan's room, whichever was best, and then opened the door to leave. Brendon grunted before taking another sheet of paper from the desk and starting to write.

In the hallway, Spencer stopped and looked over at Ryan. "Where to?" he asked, Jon scowling at his side.

"I think we should go to Ryan's room. Undoubtedly it would be much more comfortable than our room," Jon suggested, trying to look innocent. It failed miserably.

Perhaps, if the situation were different, Ryan would've been amused by Jon's comment. As it was, it only served to annoy, just like almost everything to do with Jon had for the past days he'd been at the school. "Sure," he said, feeling slightly uncomfortable. His things were hidden, and hidden well, but he was still nervous. He hadn't counted on having other people come in there, even with the posters and fake pictures. But he couldn't say no either as that would only serve to make Jon even more suspicious of him. Perhaps even Spencer too. He took a deep breath and led the way across the hall, finding his key and unlocking the door before pushing it open and heading inside, immediately plopping down in his office chair and wheeling it over to the sitting area, gesturing for the others to sit and trying not to show how uncomfortable he was. "It doesn't look too lived in," he admitted. "I didn't have room for all that much in my luggage."

Spencer snorted, "wow, looks like we've got another Brendon on our hands. You may have more family pictures than he does, though," he said as he looked around before sitting down in one of the chairs. "Not to make you feel weird or anything, but the other rooms are.. very different. You and Brendon seem to have that same desire to not leave anything of value lying around. And I'm not talking about expensive things..." he trailed off, wondering if he'd managed to confuse Ryan as much as he was confusing himself. It was the truth, though. The other rooms had a lot more objects strewn everywhere, whether it be trophies, or letters from home, or pictures of their girlfriends; things of emotional value.

Jon didn't sit down as he waited for Ryan's reaction to Spencer's words. He was actually quite disappointed to find Ryan's room so... sterile and empty. He did, however, walk around and touch every single surface, examine every single photograph. Just because.  
  
Ryan felt a slight blush, this time a genuine one, flash over his face but fought it down. "Well, I guess I'm just naturally tidy," he finally said, not even a lie. "I like having the pictures with me, though," he added, looking around at all of them. In a few he was depicted with his entire 'family'. A mother and a father and Tobias as his half-brother and a little girl who was supposedly their little sister. In some he was only with one or two of them, in some it was just some of them, in some there were even people who were supposedly his friends from 'back home'. They'd weirded him out for the first few days, still did sometimes, but he was getting used to them. "You can sit down," he added, directing it to Jon. "There's plenty of room."

"Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't you?" Jon asked, not bothering to look up. He picked up a picture of Ryan with his friends and smiled. "Who are they?" he asked, bringing the picture to Ryan and holding it in front of his face. From his chair, Spencer rolled his eyes and shook his head, hoping that Brendon would come meet them soon enough.

Ryan shrugged, trying to make it look like it wasn't a big deal. At least Jon was nowhere near the set of drawers. He studied the picture and mentally called forth the information he'd been taught to memorize. "Jordan and Hagan," he answered, looking at the pictures of three boys, one of them being himself, in phony Eton uniforms. He had never even met the other two. "I went to school with them. I actually used to go out with Jordie but we figured out that we were really just better as friends. Plus, his parents flipped a cow."

Spencer laughed loudly at that, both because of Jon's facial expression and because of the expression 'flipped a cow'. He snickered when Jon sent him a glare. "That's wonderful," Spencer said, ignoring Jon. "They look like cool people, I guess. But then so does Jon," he said, almost tipping over the chair when Jon shoved him. Putting the picture back where he'd taken it, Jon sighed and sat down.

"He probably hides all his things in those drawers," he said, pointing to the desk. "He's probably some kinky handcuffs-type person," Jon glared at the desk.

"They really are," Ryan agreed, managing a sort of wistful expression. "I miss them, but at least we write and talk online and stuff, so it's not like they're suddenly in the past entirely." And then he turned his attention to Jon, cocking an eyebrow. "If I had ropes or handcuffs or anything of that sort, I might have been tempted to use them over this week, and I don't mean that in a sexual way."

Spencer laughed loudly again, before jumping when someone knocked loudly on the door, the voice on the other side yelling that he could 'fucking hear every single word, and Spencer stop goddamn laughing so loud!' Spencer hid his smile with a hand over his mouth and snorted quietly. Apparently, Brendon wasn't having any more luck with his homework than he had been before.

Jon, who had been glaring openly at Ryan and preparing an insult, looked toward the door and grinned. "Well, looks like we're done here," he said, getting up to open the door, only to have Brendon shove him and tell him to shut up.

Ryan bit back a laugh, shaking his head slightly. But he was still sort of hoping they would leave. He couldn't help but get more and more nervous with every minute they spent in this room, a room packed full of secrets and lies. One wrong move and he'd be found out, which would probably result in him being dead. He didn't like the thought of it. Deciding to distract himself from it, though, he looked up at Brendon for a moment before looking back down, biting briefly on his bottom lip. "Sorry," he finally offered.

"Whatever," Brendon, still in the hallway. He had his sunglasses on top of his head, signaling that maybe he wanted to go out. Jon jumped at that, smiling widely.

"Well, well, gentlemen. Seems like we're going to a party."  
  


***  


  
"It's at Jamison Daron's cottage, right outside of town," Jon was explaining. All four boys were in the limo, even after much protest. They had finally just decided to listen to Jon and go to the damned party. Brendon had his sunglasses covering his eyes and had done something odd to his hair. He was still unmistakably Brendon, though, no matter how much he thought otherwise. "His parties are supposed to be crazy," Jon continued excitedly, unaware that no one was listening to him. When they arrived at the cottage (which was, admittedly, more of a mansion), all four of the young men piled out.  
  
"Well," Spencer said uneasily. "Here we go." He took a deep breath before following Jon inside. Brendon was next, swearing under his breath. He hated parties that weren't under his control. Why was he here?

Ryan raised an eyebrow slightly at the 'cottage' before shrugging off his slight surprise. He wasn't used to parties, at all, didn't know how to act at them, what to do about stuff, anything. But he was here now, so that was really all there was to it. Taking a deep breath, he moved away from the car, following the others towards the door.

Upon entering, Jon disappeared to find some drinks, Spencer followed him, claiming 'buddy system', and Brendon sat in the chair nearest to the door. No one had even looked up when they'd entered, and for this he was glad. When Jon returned with drinks, shoving them at Brendon and Ryan, Brendon tried to get them both to stay, but Jon said something about a swimming pool and ran off, Spencer hurrying behind him. The music was too loud, Brendon's drink was warm, and the chair he was sitting in was lumpy. It really could not get worse. Taking a sip from his drink, he immediately made a pinched face and shivered. "Disgusting," he muttered, before glancing up at Ryan and raising an eyebrow.

Mostly just looking down at the drink, Ryan scrunched up his nose and shook his head, quickly diverting his gaze. "Even if I did drink I have a feeling this isn't sanitary," he stated, pushing the cup away and squirming on the couch he was in, trying to get comfortable. He liked music, he really did, but he didn't appreciate the feeling of having his eardrums smashed in. He supposed that even if he'd liked this sort of thing when he was younger, he had to have grown out of high school parties long ago.

Brendon nodded in agreement and put his own drink down. "I really don't understand what's so amazing about these parties. Hell, my parents' dinner gatherings are more fun than this," he said, wrinkling his nose. He looked around, appalled at the way people were dancing and drinking the disgusting alcohol like their lives depended on it. "Really, now, have they no self-respect?" he asked, more to himself than anything else.

"I always liked the small, quiet things better," Ryan stated in agreement, chuckling slightly. "I guess I don't seem that type, but yeah." He looked up for a moment, eyes flickering briefly over Brendon's face and out to the scantily clad girls and obnoxious-looking guys getting much too hot and heavy to match his taste on the dance floor. "What's the point in getting so many people in one place when the only ones who talk to people they don't already know are the ones who're going to get so pissed they can't remember anyway?" He looked back down on his hands, and past them to the already grimy table and the disgusting plastic cup. "I think they see self-respect differently," he finally declared.

Brendon nodded in agreement, his face showing the disgust he clearly felt. "Do you think there's somewhere in this place where the music isn't so loud?" he asked, jumping when some girl collapsed onto the couch near them. She giggled obscenely for no apparent reason and Brendon swore he could feel his eye twitch. Without paying any attention to them, she grabbed one of their cups from the table and downed it before getting back up, swaying, and stumbled away. Brendon turned to Ryan, eyebrows raised and mouth hanging open. He was silent for a few seconds before bursting out laughing. "Disgusting," he mumbled to himself, when he finally stopped laughing. He got up and walked the few steps to the door, wrenching it open and stepping out into the night air. Without looking back for Ryan, he walked away from the house until the music wasn't as aggravating and stood there in silence.

Ryan quickly got up and followed Brendon out, stopping when he was a few feet behind the boy. "I guess here works," he stated, relieved he didn't have to raise his voice to be heard anymore. Then he took the last couple of steps until he reached Brendon's side, reaching out to place a hand on the boy's shoulder before pulling it back almost immediately, not bothering to try to fake a blush. It was too dark outside to be noticed anyway. "Are you okay?"

Brendon cleared his throat and nodded once, quickly. He could still hear the music a bit, but at least he didn't have to put up with those insufferable children in the house. "I am perfectly fine," he finally answered, turning to look at Ryan. "If my father found out I'd been to a party like this... he'd probably have me locked in my room. And have Zach fired for not following me around everywhere. Thankfully, Zach likes me a bit more than he should and lets me have my freedom..." he trailed off, frowning. "He's probably got some under-cover bodyguard watching me," he whispered, then chuckled at how stupid that sounded. And how true it might be.

"Good," Ryan nodded, trying to keep the doubt of his voice. Brendon definitely did seem bothered by something. But of course it could've just been the party. Ryan himself wasn't exactly comfortable about that either. Then he laughed slightly. "Perhaps he does. And I think it's good Zach lets you be sometimes. You'd suffocate in the long run otherwise, I'd say." He took a deep breath before plopping down on the ground, looking up at the sky. "I like it better out here," he finally stated.

Brendon hummed quietly, looking down at the ground, sneering, before his gaze drifted to Ryan. "You know it's quite dirty down there, right?" he asked, wrinkling his nose. He looked around quickly before taking off his glasses and stuffing them into his pockets. He sighed heavily, trying to remember when he was going home next. Of course, his father could choose any day to order him back home, but Brendon knew that the next set date was in a few weeks. He was not looking forward to it. More talk about his studies, his future, and boring dinner parties were sure to follow. He found himself wishing he was someone else before remembering how much his country meant to him and how much people counted on him. He had an important duty. What would his father say if he knew Brendon was wishing to be someone else? Frowning at himself, Brendon sighed again, trying to focus on now instead of his father and his future. He looked down at Ryan and pursed his lips. "I like it better at school, to be honest. At least most people behave there."

Ryan had a hard time keeping his chuckles back and eventually he just let them out, tilting his head slightly to look up Brendon. Being taller, it was a bit weird to see him from this angle. "Me too," he stated. "And it's not that I really care about what other people do, but I guess I just don't like being around too many people at the same time. Especially when they're acting like that." He plucked a straw of grass from the ground and started shredding it, slowly. He always liked having something to do with his hands, felt awkward when there was nothing. If they weren't occupied he really felt the full length of his hands and arms and for some reason that always made him feel clumsy, which he obviously didn't like. "And I don't care about the dirt. It comes off in the wash, and it can't be any worse than those couches we were sitting on. Let's just call this my way of unwinding." He gave another small chuckle at that, letting it ring off quickly before it started to sound uncomfortable.

Brendon looked down, one eyebrow raised. "Right..." he whispered under his breath, looking away again. "But you could get grass stains and then they would never come out of your clothes and you would have to throw them out," He pointed out, nodding to himself. He remembered playing outside when he was very young and getting a grass stain on his favorite shirt, once. And he remembered how his father had made him throw it out because it wasn't proper anymore and how Brendon had promised himself never to play in the grass like that again, lest he ruin more of his clothing. He clenched his jaw at that thought, remaining silent.

Shrugging slightly, Ryan flashed another smile before shaking his head. "You haven't felt the grass," he stated. "It's so dry I doubt there's enough juice in the nearest square mile to make a decent grass stain. Anyway, I'd just send them back to my mum. She has this miracle trouser cure or something; gets anything off." True story, that. He wouldn't be able to send them, though. His mother had no idea where he was or what he was doing, and when the jeans came back he was pretty sure it would be suspicious for everyone to see a package that had come from Massachusetts. Now that he thought about it, though, he really did miss his mother, pathetic as that may sound. He'd just been much too busy with work for months to have really seen her or talked to her. He'd send her an email later, he decided.

Brendon nodded slowly, a smile playing on his lips. But when he tried to think of his mother in a .. motherly way, all he remembered was her doting upon him and buying him lots of clothes. He couldn't talk about her home cooked meals, like Spencer could of his mother, or even her amazing power with cleaning clothes, like Ryan. He sighed again before slowly lowering himself to sit on the ground cross-legged. He placed his hands in his lap and picked at his fingers absently, still looking out straight ahead. "That's nice," he said, finally, his voice wistful. He knew he was kind of late in answering, but he didn't care much.

Ryan smiled slightly, considering the fact that Brendon had finally sat down to be an accomplishment. On both their behalf's, really. He didn't miss the fact that the boy had taken quite a while before answering, though, and he looked at Brendon again, this time keeping his gaze there since the boy was looking in another direction. "It is," he agreed, sighing slightly. Then he sucked in a deep breath. "Listen, I know you haven't known me for very long, and that you don't trust me, you think I'm a little weird, and I'm probably about the last person you'd want to talk to about anything lower than surface. But I like to listen, really. So if you want to talk, you can go ahead. Your father won't find out; I won't tell Jon and Spencer; no one who 'counts on you' would ever hear it. And there's no shame in needing to load off."

Tensing, Brendon frowned slightly and sucked his bottom lip into his mouth. He slowly shook his head, but his words told a different story. "You're in my Creative Writing class, eh? You've done a few entries for that journal as well, haven't you? Isn't it... unnerving to write something like that? Letting people..." he trailed off, trying to think of the right word. "In," he finally said, no louder than a whisper. He looked down at his legs, still picking at his hands, now with a bit more determination than before. Suddenly, he stopped. The skin near his thumb nail was turning red, a blemish, a flaw, and he frowned. Not good. When he got home, his father would surely notice and he would be chastised for having bad habits. All those little impulsive habits, such as biting nails or chewing on lips, were evil in his father's eyes. Brendon had to admit that he indulged in a few of them and made a promise to himself right then to stop. It wouldn't bring on anything good, in the end.

Ryan could have laughed out loud at the irony, but didn't. The last thing he needed to do right now was hurt the kid. Of course Brendon had no way of knowing that Ryan's journal entries were as much lies as everything else, no way of knowing that the tale about his mother's greatness at laundry was probably the most honest thing Ryan had said for close to a week. No way of knowing that right here, right now, Brendon was the open one out of the two of them, that Ryan had many more secrets than he did. It felt wrong, almost, to have them all, though. It was a beautiful night, with moons and stars ahead, and somehow the slight waver in Brendon's usually strong voice, the subtle insecurity only served to make it more stunning. And Ryan couldn't help but feel that he was tainting it all with his deceit. What was he but deceit right now anyway? Everything these people, everything  _Brendon_  knew about him was a lie. He took a deep breath, calling his senses back. It was his job. It was important, and it had been given to him because his superiors trusted he could do it. He couldn't afford to let them down. "It's hard," he finally stated. "And it feels like walking on thin ice. But at the same time it can be utterly liberating. The truth shall set you free, right?"

Brendon snorted, slowly returning back to his normal self. "Not always," he said, his tone of voice much more self-assured than before. He didn't say anything else, though. Because what Ryan had said was supposed to be true and it was how he felt. Except probably much deeper. "I just don't think I should have to open up to everyone. This is going to be in all of the senior classes' hands at the end of the year. I'm trying really hard to make it so that what I'm talking about can be easy to relate to, but those words are just covering up the fact that what I'm going through and what I will go through later on, is very different from anyone else in this school. Of course, there are many whose fathers expect great things from them and are expected to take over a family company... but that's nothing compared the the expectations of a whole country." He stopped there, frowning at himself. He felt as if he was possessed. Why else would he be talking so freely?

Ryan shrugged, silently wondering if, through this job, he hadn't in fact taken the safety of his whole country on his shoulders in some strange way. He wasn't doing this for himself. It really was for that vague idea of a country. And even if the two ways were completely different, even if he hadn't been raised to do this, wasn't expected to lead anyone, perhaps he understood more than Brendon knew. He knew he understood better than he could let on. "That's definitely understandable," he finally said. "No one should have to open up to everyone; only people you trust, or you'll feel so vulnerable and shredded into pieces that you won't know what to do with yourself. I mean..." He trailed off, considering his words slightly as he wet his lips. "I mean, in a way they already own your life. It's not fair that they have to own your thoughts too. And I'd say I understand, but we both know I don't, not to the necessary extent anyway. But I know enough to know that there's no way it's easy and. And I admire you for doing it and remaining as stable and pulled together and down to Earth as you are. Give what it feels right to give, but make sure to hold onto yourself. Your mind is the one thing no one can control, right?"

"Well," Brendon smirked, "my father does like to  _think_  that he can control every aspect, down to my thoughts. But, no, you're right. It just feels weird. I'm sure I'll get used to it. Thanks, though." He stayed silent for a few seconds before looking back at the house. "When do you suppose Spencer will drag Jon out of there?" he asked, suddenly annoyed that his friends weren't back yet. Surely Spencer wasn't having fun in there! He narrowed his eyes and looked away, shaking his head. "I'm almost tempted to go back to school and have them find someone else for a ride. That would certainly teach them," he muttered.

"You're welcome," Ryan answered with a small smile. "Anytime, okay? I'm right across the hall." Then he chuckled slightly at the suggestion. "Jon has quite some influence on Spencer, I think, even though Spencer would never admit it, so really, he might actually be having fun."

Brendon nodded slowly, then laughed. "Oh, yeah, every thing's all fun and games before they come out here, Jon probably drunk off his ass, and see that I am long gone." He said, smiling innocently. It wasn't such a bad idea. He was not their chauffeur, after all, even if Jon probably thought of him as such.

"That idea is starting to sound pretty appealing," Ryan admitted, yawning slightly. "You never got to finish your homework earlier either, did you?" He stretched his arms above his head with another yawn, feeling quite some relief in the movement. Working long hours on that essay with Spencer for the last few nights really had him tired by now. What had he gotten the night before? Four hours? Five? Couldn't be more than that. "I don't really feel like sticking around to find out if Jon's a violent drunk," he added. "So if you're going back, I'm all for it."

Brendon hummed, thought about it, and then nodded. He pushed himself up off the ground and hurried off to the front of the limo, knocking on the driver's side window. When the window rolled down, he spoke. "We're going back, now," he said, then dropped his voice to a whisper. "when you drop us off, you're to come back and wait for Jon and Spencer.  _Only_  Jon and Spencer, no one else is to get in. You will drive them back to school when they are ready," he finished, then straightened and walked to the back. He wasn't that much of a jerk that he would leave his friends stranded, but nobody had to know it. He motioned for Ryan to follow him as he climbed into the back.

Ryan pulled himself up off the ground and followed Brendon into the limo, letting out a small sigh as he sat down in the seat. "This is definitely the nicest thing I've sat in since we left school," he stated absentmindedly, stuffing his restless hands into the front pockets of his hoodie and letting his head loll back tiredly. "Can't wait to go sleep."

Brendon chuckled and nodded, sitting in his usual lone seat. He leaned his head back as well, then turned on the overhead TV. He didn't know why he always turned on the TV, since he certainly did not like the music the station usually played, but it was a comfort of sorts. "Well, don't doze off in here, because I'm not waking you up," he stated, biting back a smile.

"I'll try not to," Ryan promised, a small smile tugging at his lips. He glanced up at the TV, mentally rolling his eyes at the video that was on. "That song blows," he finally concluded.

"It's a good thing the TV isn't on for your enjoyment, then," Brendon said, blinking slowly at Ryan. He yawned widely, covering his mouth with his hand, and shrugged. "But I do agree. I just like this station. I can watch TV without hearing any news and not be forced to watch some stupid cartoon or show," he shrugged, before turning the volume down. "Besides, it's not always this horrendous."

"Hopefully it's not," Ryan muttered. "I get it, though. The news is depressing and TV shows are just so... fake, really. I'm not even going to start on the cartoons." He raised his head slightly and looked across him at Brendon's lithe form. "I don't get why you always wear sunglasses. You look much better without them," he finally said, each word as calculated as the blush he managed to fake as he quickly turned his gaze back to the TV. "Sorry," he muttered. "Didn't mean to freak you out."

"Ha. Nothing freaks me out," Brendon said, though he fought to suppress a shiver. He glanced over at Ryan, noticing the blush and had to work very hard not to laugh more. He bit his lip and looked back up at the TV. "And I wear the sunglasses because I don't want any attention from anyone- good or bad. It's annoying, you know. When I was little, I used to think it was rather fun, but, as I grew up I realized that more than half of the smiling faces were bitter and false," he shrugged. "With the glasses, I like to think that no one can see me. Or that they don't care. I'm just another high school boy."

Ryan nodded slightly, pretending to be relieved that Brendon wasn't unnerved. "It can't have been easy," he muttered. "Can't be, I mean. It's not like it's over yet." He glanced over at Brendon for a moment before looking back at the TV without really watching it. As much as he'd hated the eyeliner to begin with and still sort of did, that was what it had become too. A mask, something that made him feel safer because he didn't look like himself, so how could people get any idea who he really was.

Brendon nodded once but made no move to answer properly. He slumped against his seat and let his eyes drift close. He wasn't sleeping, just resting his eyes. He was tired of watching music videos and tired of watching the landscape zoom by out of the dark windows. He chewed on the inside of his cheek, something he usually did when he had something to say and couldn't bring himself to utter the words. Or just when he was upset. He didn't know what he wanted to say just now, but he kept his mouth shut and eyes closed. He wondered what Jon and Spencer were doing.

***

Ryan was about ready to just collapse on his bed when he returned to his room, but he knew that if Brendon was going to get online, he couldn't very well just abandon their nightly conversations. And so he turned the computer on and changed into pajama pants and a t-shirt as it loaded, refraining from rubbing his eyes at the knowledge that it would smear black all over his face and hands. At least he wasn't wearing band-aids anymore. When he was changed he walked back to his office chair and typed in the series of passwords and waited for the other boy to log on. He'd give him five minutes, and if he hadn't gotten on by then, Ryan was damn well going to bed.

Brendon was setting up his laptop so that he could be in bed and on the computer at the same time. He laid down on his stomach on the bed, his laptop on the pillow, and logged on, his head resting against his arm. It was uncomfortable, but Brendon didn't trust himself to sit up. When he saw Drew on, he smiled lazily and shook his head against his arm.

zeke: well, hello. have a nice day?

Two minutes had passed when Ryan heard the pling, having already been half asleep in his chair. He smiled slightly at the line in the small window, relieved that it wasn't anything complicated, that right now there was nothing to dodge. He reached into the touch-pad and moved his finger, tapping once, and the window with the conversation took up the entire screen.

drew: yeah, it was good. you?

Brendon hummed to himself, thinking it over. He had not finished his journal entry, and had gone to a horrible party. What else could have gone wrong? Also, he'd been more or less abandoned by his friends.

zeke: ... nothing to complain about here. how was your night? do you like your new school more or less, now that you've been there for the better part of a week?

Ryan smiled slightly. It was still simple, didn't touch on areas he was uncomfortable with, for which he was grateful. As tired as he was right at that moment, he was even more likely to mess up than usual.

drew: good, good. the night was fine. i have a feeling it didn't quite go as my friends planned, but you know. i'd say i definitely like it. i'm not comfortable somewhere i don't know my place around. it's better now, to know the place and some of the people.

Brendon smiled and nodded to the computer screen. He yawned, not bothering to cover his mouth this time, and then set about typing back an answer.

zeke: that's good. i'm a bit worried about some of my friends, but i'm sure they'll be just fine... well, i hope so anyway. but tomorrow's saturday! i can sleep in, ha ha.

Smiling a little, Ryan read over the line an extra time. No way was he worried about Spencer and Jon. Sure, Jon may do some stupid thing or another, but Ryan couldn't even be honestly regretful in saying that he didn't care about the guy. And he trusted Spencer to have a level head on his shoulders and come back in one piece.

drew: whatever's up with them i'm sure they'll be fine. and saturdays are the best. i've been waiting for it all week. like i usually do, but hey.

Ryan drew in a sharp breath, biting slightly on his bottom lip. He had to get some sort of a message through, just something for Brendon to actually think about. Had to plant that first seed, as the saying went.

drew: you know how you said that you wanted me to talk more about me too and not just what was bothering you? well, i really liked tonight because i got to spend it with who i did, you know? and now you can feel free to go ahead and laugh at me.

Brendon couldn't help smiling as he read the last message. Biting the inside of his cheek, he took a few seconds to think about what to respond with. Finally, he sighed, shook his head, and couldn't help but tease the poor boy just a little. He obviously had the upper hand, since Ryan didn't know who he  _really_  was, and teasing him just seemed like the right thing to do.

zeke: aw, that's adorable. does annndreeewww have a crush on someone?  
  
Good, good. Ryan had already found out that the boy was far from dim, and he'd been right. Brendon had taken the bait. Things were at least going in the right direction on that respect. But honestly, he had no idea how to make the boy return the feelings he was pretending to have. Or even just be attracted to him. He had absolutely no experience in the department of getting anyone to like him in that way.

drew: uhm no. well... maybe?

Brendon snorted, then froze. If this was Ryan, which he was sure it was, that meant that Ryan was crushing on.. on him? Or Spencer? Surely not Jon... Brendon wrinkled his nose. Why hadn't he thought this through before asking such a stupid question? Did he want to know if Ryan actually liked him? Asking more questions would probably give something away, but then again leaving abruptly would, too. Brendon closed his eyes and sighed again.

zeke: i knew it. well, i can't help you there, unfortunately. i don't really do the whole dating thing, so even if i did help you, i'd probably give the worst possible advice. sorry

Ryan noted a slightly longer pause this time and figured that the impact of what he'd written had probably hit the other boy. And for a moment he'd thought that Brendon was just going to log off and then avoid him forever. Before he had time to doubt his own judgement, though, he was saved by the now familiar pling and let out a breath of relief.

drew: i know, i know. and i don't want advice anyway because, honestly. going nowhere. you know, there are great guys here and i have a feeling some of them even have slightly gay tendencies, but being me i had to go and set my eyes on the unattainable. don't worry about it, though. it's nothing serious.

The response made Brendon jut out his bottom lip. It was quite sad, actually. He'd never thought of it that way, had never set his sights on someone he couldn't have. He imagined it must be a horrible feeling.

zeke: that... sucks. ): i wish i could help, really, but... well. i can't. uhm. i should probably be getting to bed, though. i'll talk to you sometime tomorrow, yeah?

Ryan groaned slightly at the response. Yeah, he'd gone too far and Brendon would be avoiding him from then until eternity and he'd have to go back and say that he'd failed his assignment,  _his first one_ , and he'd be working desk jobs for the rest of his life.

drew: thanks, i really appreciate it. but as i said, don't worry. you know me, i always land on both feet, right? and that makes two of us. i'm beat. catch you later.

Brendon signed off and shut down the laptop. He stared at the blank screen for a few minutes before pushing it off the pillow and onto his bedside table. He lay in his bed and sighed, turning onto his back to stare up at the ceiling. Frowning at himself for being so down about something that was out of his control, he pushed himself up and proceeded to get ready for bed.

Still slightly put off and more than just a little worried, Ryan turned off his laptop and walked over to his bed, crawling under the covers. He had a feeling sleep wouldn't come too easily that night.


	6. Chapter 6

Jon never wanted to wake up. Groaning at the sun filtering into his room, he shoved his face into the pillow and then whimpered when his own noise made his head throb unbearably. His mouth felt disgusting, even worse than normal, and his eyes seemed swollen shut. He heard someone walking around in the room and sighed in relief to know that Spencer was here and that Spencer would take care of him. He forced himself to get up and brought both of his hands up to his head, massaging his scalp, hoping that it would ease his headache. It didn't help, of course, and only brought tears to his eyes. Why did so much fun have to hurt so bad?  
  
"Spencer?" he whispered, slowly opening his eyes. He glanced at the clock and realized it was about 11:30 am. He vaguely remembered waking up around nine, sans headache. He'd thought that he had escaped the evil hangover and gone back into blissful sleep. Now he knew that it had just taken a little bit longer for his body to react. Oh, he felt like throwing up and he knew he would have the feeling all day.  
  
"I hope you know you made a fool of yourself," Spencer said, coming out of their en-suite washroom. He glared at Jon, not even trying to keep his voice down. "And I really hope you don't expect me to sit beside you and help you put the pieces of your night back together," he added, narrowing his eyes at Jon  before disappearing into the washroom again. Jon groaned and fell back onto the bed. He stayed still for a few moments before dragging himself up and getting ready. He needed to eat something and he needed to drink coffee. A lot of coffee. He had a feeling that no one was going to take pity on him today, especially considering Brendon had ditched them, Ryan hated him, and Spencer was being his no-nonsense self.  
  
It took him longer than usual, but finally Jon was ready and he set out with Spencer to get some food in the cafeteria. "We're meeting Brendon and Ryan," Spencer said on their way down. Jon grunted, trying to walk without making too much noise. "I called them in their rooms and they agreed to come, but only because they wanted to see me. I told them you were too sick to talk, so that made them agree too." This was greeted by yet another grunt from Jon, making Spencer smile slightly. When they were in the cafeteria, Spencer got two plates and filled them with eggs, bread, bacon, and fruits. Jon got two black coffees and they made their way to their usual table to wait for their friends.  
  


***  


  
Ryan hadn't been so nervous about leaving his room before, not even on the very first morning he'd been there. If Brendon's reactions were wrong, Ryan would have to report back as soon as possible and then he'd probably be called home immediately. Home as a failure for his father to laugh of. Not to mention the fact that he'd have let down his whole nation. Due to these things, it was probably natural that he was taking as much time leaving his room as possible. He'd showered until his skin had started to wrinkle. And then he'd actually put on more makeup than necessary just to draw out time. He had fixed his hair five times too, for the same reason, and then tried on eight different outfits.

Now, though, he was already fifteen minutes late and couldn't really find any new excuses. He wouldn't have minded owning one of Brendon's numerous pairs of sunglasses, but the best he'd been able to find had been some odd little hat Tobias had insisted was 'stylish' but honestly looked like it belonged in a Mark Twain book. Or Charles Dickens perhaps. He'd put that on and the largest hoodie he had, too. Large only meant that it actually fit instead of being too small, though, and he still couldn't raise his arms too much if he didn't want his stomach exposed.

Taking a deep breath, he opened the door and left, locking it routinely behind him, and went with slow steps down the halls and stairs until he reached the cafeteria where he went straight for the food, deciding to deal with people only when he absolutely had to. He took a plate and stacked a small serving of eggs and bacon on before adding a pile of pancakes and syrup and some fruit. Then he poured himself some tea and put small containers of sugar and cream in his pockets before balancing his way to the table where he plopped down on the free chair without looking at anyone, making sure his hair covered his eyes quite well. "Morning," he greeted, trying to at least avoid acting like he had been a part of that conversation last night. Then he forced himself to raise his head slightly and look around on each of them, the blush actually coming naturally when he saw Brendon this time, before settling his gaze on Spencer. That, at least, he felt sort of safe with. "Sorry I'm late. Alarm didn't go off."

Spencer nodded and smiled. "How are you on this fine day?" Spencer asked, perhaps a little too cheerfully. Beside him and across from him, Jon grunted and Brendon snorted. "And is it just me, or is Jon not the only who's having a bit of trouble this morning?" He frowned, looking pointedly at Brendon, then at Ryan. Brendon shrugged, forking a piece of cantaloupe into his mouth to save himself from answering.  
  
He was dressed in his usual khaki pants and polo shirt, but the shirt seemed crumpled, which was highly unusual, and he had faint circles under his eyes, making him look dead-beat and tired. He was eating like it was his last meal, but Spencer knew that was only because he didn't want to talk. Spencer raised an eyebrow at Ryan and Brendon, then shrugged. Someone would let him know what was going on; he was sure of it.  
  
Ryan cleared his throat uncomfortably, letting his mind run a million miles an hour to get some sort of an idea, some sort of drama that would make it credible for him to be nervous and jumpy and whatever else it was he was right now. "Jordan called in the middle of the night," he finally said. "Apparently forgot it wasn't morning over here too. He... couldn't leave well enough alone and had to stir up some shit and try to apologize for how he handled the thing with his parents. Apparently he didn't get the fact that I'm across the pond and over it." That worked, right? He definitely hoped it would.

Spencer reached over and patted Ryan's hand. "I'm sorry. Must have been terrible," he said, the corners of his lips turned down. He turned to Brendon and raised an eyebrow to see the boy staring at Ryan, his face unreadable. "What's wrong, Brendon?" The moment he said the name, Brendon turned to look at him, clearly annoyed.

"Nothing's wrong," he said, stiffly, schooling his face into a blank mask. "Why the hell can't you ever mind your own business?" Brendon asked, then sat back, forcing himself to calm down. What the hell was his problem? There was no reason for him to be angry, even though what he really wanted to do was yell, 'Who the hell is Jordan!?' But that didn't seem right- he vaguely remembered Ryan mentioning a Jordan. Dating someone named Jordan. Brendon didn't exactly like the thought of that. Thankfully, Spencer had gone back to eating, finding that not answering to Brendon's anger would be the best idea.

"It's okay," Ryan muttered to Spencer once things seemed to have calmed down. "I think that after an hour he understood the 'just friends' he was the one to empower in the first place." He'd pointedly not looked at Brendon but had practically been able to feel the boy's anger all the way across the table. Brendon's foul mood could be taken as a sign that something was wrong, but feeling it peak after the Jordan comment made Ryan almost inclined to at least be a little optimistic about the whole thing. Jealousy was a ridiculous notion, but there had definitely been something there to set Brendon off. He cut off a forkful of pancakes and put them in his mouth, starting to chew as he chanced another glance at Brendon, once more looking back down immediately. If looks could kill he had the feeling the entire cafeteria would've been wiped out by now.

Spencer nodded solemnly. "Well, that's good, then," he said, trying to sound happy but really just managing to sound put down. Beside him, Jon was still wincing from the bite in Brendon's voice a few minutes earlier. "Hey, Jon, why don't you go back to sleep? You've eaten and you can bring a cup of coffee up with you," Spencer suggested, looking at Jon and rubbing the boy's back gently. Jon nodded slowly, smiling just a little bit, and pushed his chair back. He inclined his head towards Ryan and Brendon as a goodbye before walking from the cafeteria.

Before the silence could grow, Spencer turned back to Ryan. "There's a bonfire tonight. You want to go? It might cheer you up."

"Sounds good," Ryan answered with a slight nod, managing a small smile. He finally took the packets out of his pockets and dumped them in his tea, stirring it quickly before taking a sip. "When did you guys get back in anyway? Looks like you had quite the night."

Spencer groaned. "I do believe it was around three am when we got in... Jon was smashed and I am eternally grateful to Brendon for sending the limo to get us. Even if he didn't deem us worthy to stay himself." Spencer was purposely talking about Brendon like he wasn't there. "Jon did a bunch of stupid things while I trailed behind him, making sure he didn't do anything too horrible. There was some table dancing, though, and Jon insulted this one girl until he'd reduced her to tears. I don't even know what she did, just that he lashed out at her, verbally, nothing physical.." He shook his head and chuckled dryly, although he'd found no humour whatsoever in the situation. "Other than that, it was pretty boring. I can understand why the two of you left. What did you guys do last night?"

"Sounds fun," Ryan said, suddenly startled with how small his inner lexicon seemed to have become. "I feel bad for the girl, though." And he did. He'd been on the receiving end of Jon's guarded insults and angry looks enough not to wish them on anyone else. "But you should've gotten the table dancing on video or something. You know, blackmail value." Then he sucked in a deep breath. "We left when the music started to feel like it would permanently damage our ears. Then we sat around outside for a little, got tired and went home. I was on the Internet for a little and then I went to bed, and you already know the story of the rude awakening."

Brendon narrowed his eyes, looking over at Ryan. He'd been right! And now he definitely knew for sure that Drew and Ryan were one and the same. Well, he'd already known, actually. But this just proved it further. And Ryan didn't even know that he was really Zeke! Oh, this was good. He smirked and went back to eating silently, aware that Spencer was watching him.

"Sorry the party was so shitty," Spencer apologized, shrugging. "At least the two of you got to get back here without witnessing the worst of it, though. It got worse as the night progressed." He paused and looked at Brendon again. Something was going on and he definitely wanted to know what it was. Meanwhile, Brendon was wondering if he should just tell Ryan who he really was. Oh, the boy would be so embarrassed! Or, maybe he could wait until he had more information on Ryan. Yes, it was always good to know who you were dealing with. Unfortunately, Drew had always been perfect, nice and helpful. And Brendon didn't really see himself being mean to Drew, even if he was really the same person as Ryan. He sighed. Maybe he should just tell Ryan. It was only fair.

"That's okay," Ryan stated. "It was Jon's idea and it's not like anyone was forced to come. I can't really imagine it getting a lot worse than it was when we left, though. People were already bloody pissed." He made a slight face. "I still can't believe anyone would actually drink that... whatever it was anyway. Was it home-brewed or something? I mean, with the alcohol laws here and everything." He quickly shut his mouth, stopping himself from rambling further. "I'm glad you got back okay," he finally said with a small smile, leaning back in his chair and taking another sip of his tea.

Spencer shrugged, chuckling quietly. "I don't know anything about alcohol, so I wouldn't know. I'm sure every student in this school knows how to get his hands on some, though." He looked over at Brendon briefly. "Anyway, bonfire starts at eight tonight, all right? What should we do until then?"

Ryan shrugged before groaning slightly. "Catch up on all the homework that isn't the argumentative essay?"

***

Spencer crept silently around his room, careful not to wake Jon as he got dressed in a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie. Comfortable lounging-around clothes were always the best way to go for a bonfire. When he was ready, Spencer quietly opened the door and stepped into the hallway, closing it again behind him. He walked down the hall to Ryan and Brendon's rooms and knocked on both their doors. It took a few minutes, but Brendon finally joined him in the hallway, wearing much the same thing as Spencer. It was a rare occasion to see Brendon in sweatpants, but he still managed somehow to make them look proper. Brendon smiled softly at Spencer but otherwise kept quiet.

"One sec," Ryan called out upon hearing the knock and quickly brought the report to a halt, promising to finish it later before making sure that the encryption apparatus did its work, and watching impatiently as all the letters blurred into unrecognizable shapes. When it was finally done, he quickly disconnected the device and stuffed it as silently as possible into the drawer with the other things that shouldn't really see daylight. Then he grabbed that weird hat off the table again and opened the door, locking it behind him and walking quickly up to Brendon and Spencer. "I was writing an email," he said as way of explanation. "Thanks for getting me."

"No problem," Spencer said, following quickly after Brendon, who had started down the hall the moment Ryan's door had opened. The boys made their way behind the school, joining many of their classmates who were also making their way to the bonfire. It was situated, as usual, in a small clearing among the trees outside. Three teachers were already there and were sitting on a log, the fire already started. Spencer chose a place far from the teachers and sat down in the grass, motioning for Brendon and Ryan to do the same. Brendon plopped down beside him and smirked.

"This should be fun," Brendon said. "Wonder what we'll be doing tonight... I really hope they don't make us sing or anything."  
  
Ryan smiled slightly. "Why not?" he asked, carefully not looking up. He felt a little more daring than he had earlier in the morning, mostly because Brendon hadn't run away from breakfast the moment he'd showed up coupled with the fact that he'd actually stayed all way through the meal. "I like singing. My voice is definitely not the best, but it's fun." He sat down carefully, wincing slightly as he was already starting to feel damp from the dew. The previous evening it had been too late for the dew to still be on the ground but this night it was fresh and wet everywhere. The place was beautiful, though; that he had to admit.

Brendon snorted. "I'm sure you may like singing, but listening to half our grade doing it could very possibly destroy your ear drums. Let's all remember that some of us sing better than others... and then some of us are absolutely horrendous. Not to mention that people will exaggerate and sing loud enough to wake the dead." He shook his head, wrinkling his nose at the thought.

"If I remember correctly, Brendon, you were in the choir at church for six years, were you not?" Spencer asked, smirking when Brendon glared at him. "I'm sure you could show them all up with your voice!" For this, Spencer was shoved away by Brendon, though he did notice the Prince blush slightly.  
  
"Not likely," Brendon muttered.  
  
Chuckling slightly at the two younger boys' behaviour, Ryan shook his head slightly. "Point taken," he stated, turning his head slightly to look at the fire. It was piled high with logs and nearly roaring with power, the bright flames dancing in the night. It really was incredibly gorgeous, he decided. "So what's usually done at these things? I mean, Jon said there was another party tonight, right? And yet so many people are here. So what's the appeal?"

Spencer shrugged, looking around. "I think that quite a few people are just sick of parties but they won't admit it. We usually play group games - 'truth or dare' if the teachers are feeling nice. We play a lot of games like 'If' and whoever wants to play can, or people can just sit around and talk. Sometimes we'll tell stupid scary stories when it gets later. It's pretty cool," he said. "Oh, and sometimes we do sketches and stuff. Eat marshmallows. It's all very good, clean, fun."

"That sounds brilliant," Ryan stated, the small smile on his face actually genuine. This did sound like the kind of thing he'd like as Ryan Ross too, sounded pretty much like his kind of fun. Just relaxing, unwinding, getting to laugh. It would be nice to catch a break after the whirlwind week. He let out a slightly wistful sigh, remembering the email he'd sent his mother before starting the report. He was really starting to miss home and yet it could be as much as seven or so months before he got the chance to return.

"You forgot the best part," Brendon pointed out, his tone that of extreme boredom. "They usually make us sing silly songs when it officially starts and then again when it finishes, even though people are too tired to sing. God, I hope they've come to their senses and stopped that rubbish. It was unbearable." He sighed and shook his head, openly glaring at the teachers, who remained ignorant to his whining.  


Spencer rolled his eyes, then jumped when one of the teachers stood and rather loudly announced that the night had officially started. "And now, let's all sing Amazing Grace, students, as our opening song." There were collective groans from around the bonfire. Brendon rolled his eyes dramatically and Spencer snickered. "Now, now, we want everyone to join or the night will be cut short. Let's go!"

They started singing, Brendon only mouthing the words, and almost made it through half the song before one of the teachers glared him down until he actually started making some sound. He rolled his eyes and sang softly. The teacher promptly walked over and stood beside Brendon, staring him down until Brendon sang louder, wincing when he could actually hear his own voice. He hated this...  
  
" 'Twas grace that taught my heart to fear...."

Ryan had been singing along just fine until he heard the new voice, and he couldn't help but to look up and search for its source. Brendon, he realized almost immediately. And it was beautiful. His breath nearly caught in his throat even though the boy wasn't even singing with actual emotion. It was all he could do to keep singing himself and mentally he was chastising himself for the slip. Nothing about the Prince was to keep him off-guard; there was nothing there he was supposed to admire. He quickly forced his attention away, focused on how much the guy a few feet ahead of him sounded like crap. And then he realized he'd been staring and quickly tore his gaze away. This time the blush came naturally.

When the song finished, Brendon snarled at the teacher's back as the man walked away, apparently satisfied that he'd managed to make Brendon sing. He shook his head, muttering about how embarrassing that had been, but was silenced when Spencer glared at him. "You were wonderful," his best friend admonished. "Stop being such a brat."

"It did sound really great," Ryan agreed in a very low voice, not looking at the other boys and letting his face don another blush. "Well," he added. "One song. That wasn't too bad then, was it?"

Before either of the others could answer, though, the teacher was calling attention to himself again and managed somehow to get everyone to shut up and look at him. "Well, we have a few games for you, so-" He paused to let some groans and unenthusiastic applause pass. One kid actually seemed pretty happy with the revelation and was clapping loudly, keeping it up even when everyone else had stopped; the swift movements of his hands only ceased when the teacher sent him a stern look and the kid next to him punched his arm. "We're going to split you up in two teams to play fetch. I'm sure most of you remember the game, but for those who don't, what you have to do is split into two teams and elect a fetcher who's responsible for bringing the things I call out to me before the fetcher of the other team. Understood?" Unenthusiastic agreement followed, and the teacher walked down to start splitting them up in teams.

Spencer latched on to both Brendon's and Ryan's arms, refusing to let go so that the teacher knew to keep them together. Soon enough, the teams were separated, with Team One on the right side of the fire and Team Two on the left. The trio had all been put in Team Two and reluctantly got to their feet to discuss who should be the fetcher. "Ryan's tall and lanky," Brendon said loudly, getting the team's attention. "I bet he could run fast." He smirked and looked over at Ryan, tilting his head to the side as if to ask the boy if he would do it. Beside him, Spencer chuckled, but had to agree that it was true.

It was almost automatic when Ryan blushed again, but he nodded slightly. He knew he was quite a decent runner, and he'd had years to get over the teenage awkwardness that had slowed him down when he was younger. He'd still keep claiming that he was awkward and clumsy, but he also knew that if it had been that bad, he wouldn't have been asked to join the academy. "Sure," he muttered, shrugging as he let Spencer push him towards the front. He looked over his shoulder, managing a grin now. "But you guys better help me out with this."

Brendon nodded and the team agreed. Luckily, none of the guys who hated Brendon's guts had decided to join the bonfire and so people were more likely to agree with him. And Ryan really did look like he'd be a good runner. When both teams fell silent, the boys turned to look at the teacher, who was staring them all down in turn. "All right," he said, his voice carrying in the night air. "The first object is easy enough. A navy sweater!"

It only took a second or two for Brendon to look down at himself and rip off his sweater, aware that the whole team was stumbling to find one. He shoved it into Ryan's hands, shivering at the cool night air on his torso, and turned to see if the other team had found one. It seemed one of them was also wearing a sweater, but this one had buttons, and the boy was only just taking it off. Brendon smirked. This was going to be easy.

Ryan grinned slightly, quickly taking off and jogging the few feet up to the teacher to give him the sweater. There had been no need to run with the other team so far behind them, so he figured he'd rather just save that for later. "Here," he said, pushing the sweater into the teacher's hands.

The teacher grinned back, nodding. "Good, Hastings," he commented. "One point to team two."

Ryan nodded and took the sweater back, walking back down to his team mates where he quickly found Spencer and Brendon again and handed the piece of garment over. "He sort of seemed to want to keep it," he commented with a slight shrug. "You looked cold, though." Then he quickly turned back to focus his attention on the teacher who already seemed to be getting ready to set the next task.

Spencer was poking Brendon's stomach, giggling. "You have a little-boy tummy!" Spencer announced, receiving quite a few odd looks from his team mates. Brendon grunted and pushed Spencer's hands away, the darkness hiding his blush, and quickly grabbed his sweater. He put it on, then waited for the teacher to say something else.

"A pair of flip-flops!" the teacher said, then frowned. "Hopefully the kind made for men."

Everyone looked around at each other, mumbling about what the hell kind of object that was and frowning. Suddenly, Spencer gasped and looked at Ryan. "Jon has some in his closet!" he yelled, eyes wide. He shoved his key into Ryan's hand and pushed him forward. "I dare say you'd get there faster than I." He turned to see the other team all moaning and groaning about it, since they all seemed to be wearing regular shoes. But one of the boys was saying excitedly how his girlfriend had left a pair and was suddenly yelled at by his team to go get the sandals.  
  
Ryan was a little confused for a moment. They'd used an exit other than the main doors to get outside and he wasn't at all familiar with this part of the school yet. It didn't help that he really hadn't been paying too much attention when they'd gone out here. He scanned the building before finally spotting what looked like the door they'd come out of and ran up there, putting a little more momentum in his steps this time. He reached the door a moment later and flung it open only to find himself standing in a deserted, unfamiliar hallway. He groaned inwardly and took a few steps forward to get his bearings only to be all but toppled by some other guy who raced past him down the hall. Probably going for the dormitories too. Ryan sucked in a breath and followed him down a hall, past a few turns and up two flights of stairs, making sure to run slowly enough to stay behind the other guy who was spluttering when they reached the dormitories. It still didn't look familiar, though, and one look at the room number on the closest door confirmed to him that he was in the wrong dorm hall. He groaned inwardly and looked around confusedly.

The boy was exiting his room again and looked at Ryan with a small smirk. "Lost Hastings?" he panted out, cocking an eyebrow slightly. He was red-faced and slightly sweaty from the exertion, but still somehow managed to crack a small smile. "Well, I guess you can't really beat me either way. It's the end of this hall, a right, down the flight of stairs and a left."

"Thanks," Ryan quickly said before flinging himself in that direction, full-out sprinting now. He followed the instructions and soon after found himself in the right hall where getting to Spencer and Jon's room was no problem at all. He got to the right door, pushed in the key and twisted it before opening it silently and walking to the closet he knew to be Jon's on his tiptoes. The last thing he wanted at the moment was to wake up Walker. The flip-flops were easily visible, several pairs actually, and Ryan picked up the nearest ones before closing the closet and turning back to the door.

"Whadya doon' wi' ma flips?" a sleepy voice asked from the bed. "Knew ya wa' up t'some'in."

"Ask Spencer to explain later," Ryan quickly got out before continuing to the door. In the hall, he found that he wasn't possibly going to find his way out the same way he got in, and instead he sprinted for the main entrance, down stairs, through halls and through the entrance hall until he was outside. Then he turned swiftly and sprinted, following the angles of the school until he could finally see the fire a few hundred feet away. And the other guy, walking slowly, waving the flip-flops over his head. He was definitely a lot closer than Ryan was, so Ryan sped up even more, leaning slightly forward and using his arms to create momentum, and then people were screaming at the other boy to hurry up, and he started jogging, still a good fifty feet ahead.

Seconds later they skidded to a halt in front of the teacher, both panting as they held out the flip-flops simultaneously. The teacher looked between the offerings with a cocked eyebrow. "Peters, these are  _pink_ ," he stated. "I don't want to know what they were doing in your dorm at all, so let's just pretend I never saw them." Then he turned to Ryan with a small smile. "Hastings, another point."

Ryan grinned slightly, fighting to get enough air into his lungs as he slowly, still panting, made his way back to his group, tossing the flip-flops and keys at Spencer and taking his hat up momentarily to wipe a bit of sweat off his forehead and his wayward bangs out of his eyes before putting the hat back on. "I bet... there was a... quicker way than... that one," he panted out heavily, still grinning.

Spencer chuckled, taking the keys and tossing the flip-flops to the ground. He cheered along with the rest of the team and patted Ryan on the back. One of the guys thrust a bottle of water towards Ryan, smiling widely. Brendon, who was standing a few feet away, couldn't help but grin.

"All right, maybe Team One can catch up with this next one!" the teacher yelled, and Team One cheered their assent. "A sheet of paper!" Spencer looked at Brendon, eyebrows raised expectantly, and Brendon glared at him.

"Well? You have a million of those all over your room. GET A MOVE ON!" Spencer hollered, chuckling when Brendon stepped back in surprise. The whole team was staring at him now and he had no other choice but to turn around and sprint toward the school. God, he hated running. Maybe he'd change into a t-shirt in his room, too. He made it to the school in no time at all, yanking the door open and going through the numerous hallways with ease. He took the stairs two at a time, rolling his eyes at every turn when he got to the floor where his dorm was.  
  
  
When he finally reached his room, he jammed the key into the lock, turned, and left it there when he slipped into the room. He grabbed the sheet of paper on his bedside table before yanking off his sweater. He stopped, hearing loud footsteps outside his room and swore, grabbing a t-shirt quickly and running out of his room. He closed the door, locked it, and shoved his keys back into his pockets before running back down the hall.  
  
When he was back outside, he was several meters in front of the other guy and he smiled confidently, skidding in front of the teacher and handing him the sheet of paper. The teacher studied the sheet of paper, reading it, and Brendon gaped at him. "Is this a love poem, Brendon?" the teacher asked, smirking. Brendon blushed furiously, shaking his head. The teacher grinned again. "No matter. Another point to Team Two. But really, Brendon, you didn't have to take off your shirt for me to award you the point." Blushing even more, if that was possible, Brendon hurried to Spencer's side, glaring at the teacher once again.  
  
"What an asshole," he muttered.

Ryan nodded in agreement, eyes widening. Teachers could be cruel, that much he knew, but he'd never seen any sort of something bordering on public humiliation like this before. And it surprised him a great deal that the teachers would even have the guts for it, knowing who Brendon was. "Thanks, though," he muttered, grateful for the break that had allowed him to catch his breath again after a run that had been a whole lot longer than had in any way been necessary. He looked over at Spencer and Brendon quickly and only then did it really register in his mind that Brendon wasn't wearing a shirt. And it wasn't that he hadn't seen guys shirtless before - how could he have avoided that in any case? It was... he guess if he had to explain it, it would be the assignment he had and the obvious implications of it that made Brendon different from everybody else. Whatever it was, his face was suddenly on fire and he pulled his eyes away quickly, looking down at his own sneakers.

"Hastings," one of the guys on their team called what seemed like mere seconds later. "Hastings, pay attention. He just asked for a wrist watch."

Looking up quickly, Ryan blinked a couple of times. He hadn't even registered the teacher speaking, but when someone shoved him slightly he got it and started running towards the teacher, already fumbling with his own watch. There wasn't really any point, though, since the opposing team was already up there, having already handed their watch over. Ryan stopped in his tracks, his face burning even hotter than it had a minute ago as he despondently walked back to the others. "Sorry," he muttered, keeping his eyes on the teacher. This time he wasn't going to miss it.

Brendon quickly got his shirt back on, seeming to snap out of his thoughts when someone addressed Ryan. He huffed, smoothing down the red t-shirt. He only had three t-shirts, and this one had to be his favourite. Once it was on, he continued glaring at the teacher. He'd never seen the man, or hadn't been paying attention, but he really was a jerk. He was probably doing it purposely, as well, which made Brendon even angrier. He rolled his eyes and waited for the next item to be announced.

"All right, it's three to one, teams! The next item is... a tooth brush!"  


Eight items later, Team Two was cheering loudly and high fives and slaps on backs were being exchanged as Ryan plopped down with Spencer and Brendon on the spot they'd previously been in. "Well," he started, smiling slightly as he gathered his own possessions around him. "That wasn't so bad, apart from the teacher being a right arse. Reckon there's more?"

The others didn't have time to answer him as another teacher cleared his throat to get everyone's attention. "We have one more game tonight," he told the assembled boys, smiling slightly. "You know this one. Smith, go count to a hundred."

Ryan felt his eyebrows raise slightly in confusion. "What's this all about?" he asked.

Spencer grinned widely, pushing himself off the ground with one hand and scurrying off into the forest. He got behind a tree, covered his eyes with his hands and started counting.

Beside Ryan, Brendon snorted. "You'll see," he said, grabbing Ryan's hand and pulling him up. They backed up into they were part of the circle beginning to form, Brendon latching onto someone else's hand at the same time. "When everyone's in a circle, you can move into whichever position you like, as long as you continue holding hands with your partners, all right? We have to basically become some big pretzel and then when Spencer comes back, he has to try and undo us. Like a human knot," Brendon explained, laughing as soon as everyone started going under arms making the whole thing uncomfortable. Crouching down, he went under his and Ryan's arm, straightening out as much as he could when he was on the other side. "Like that," he smirked, his arm up, and awkwardly behind his head, still holding onto Ryan's.

Ryan nodded even though he was well-aware that Brendon wouldn't be able to see him. Then he followed the guy on his other side who was pulling him with him under another pair of arms, and Ryan felt his grip on Brendon's hand becoming strained, wrist hurting just a little bit. Then he was pulled over the arms of two people who had crouched down to make the passage easier, and the strain was gone in one hand, appearing instead in the other when he looked up from the ground with widened eyes to suddenly find himself chest to chest with Brendon, immediately blushing and looking back down. The movements of the people around him seemed to have stilled, as though in silent agreement that they couldn't really become any more tangled. Someone was pressed warm against his side and two other people's tangled hands were pushing into his back uncomfortably. Standing suddenly so close to Brendon wasn't exactly comfortable either. More like really awkward. Ryan found himself hoping that Spencer would be able to sort out the knot pretty damn quickly.

Brendon chuckled into Ryan's face. "Well, well, look at us. And Spencer said I could never get close to anyone," he scoffed and waggled his eyebrows. When he glanced up, it was to see Spencer coming back, biting his lip in concentration as he surveyed the knot of people. He made his way to one side, away from Brendon and Ryan, and started attempting to unravel everyone. He was pushing heads down, moving people around, twisting arms, and revelling in the groans of pain, chuckling softly as he went.

Another blush spreading over his features, Ryan found himself wondering if he was overdoing it. But then again, it was really only on purpose half of the time. "Perhaps he's staying over there just to avoid being wrong, then," he mumbled, nodding in the direction Spencer was and inwardly flinching at the stupid comment. Suddenly the people with their hands digging into his back seemed to be losing their balance and Ryan was shoved forward, nearly losing his too, and with no arms to help him pretty much fell into Brendon's chest, his cheeks catching fire again.

Brendon grunted, nearly falling back along with Ryan, but the people behind him held him up. "Yeah, he better hurry," he muttered, glaring at Spencer when he caught his gaze. Spencer smiled widely. A big portion of the group was already untangled and Spencer was getting closer and closer to Brendon and Ryan. Finally, he got Brendon to go back under Ryan's arm, the opposite of what Brendon had done earlier, and then went to work on freeing Ryan and the boys around him. When he finished, moving on to the last few people, Brendon flexed his wrist, still holding Ryan's hand, and sighed. "God, that feels much better," he said, grinning over at Ryan. When everyone had finally parted, the teacher looked at his watch, then up at Spencer.

"Only four minutes and eighteen seconds!" he announced, and Spencer smiled, then stared pointedly at Brendon and Ryan's hands, still clasped together even though everyone else had let go seconds before.

"It definitely does," Ryan agreed, stretching his back and feeling the tension release as his spine gave a slight pop. Then he followed Spencer's glance and felt yet another blush start up, quickly letting go and taking a step away, closer to Spencer. "Congrats on saving our wrists," he said. "You could've been nice and done it a bit more quickly, though." He made sure to keep smiling to make sure there was no sting in the words.

Brendon shoved his hands into his pockets and nodded in agreement. He looked around and decided it was safe for them all to sit down again. He lowered himself to the ground and sat down, legs crossed Indian-style. He was about to ask a question when he spotted one of the teachers retrieving a bag of marshmallows from behind his back, setting it on the ground, then retrieving bananas and some chocolate. His eyes widened and he licked his lips unconsciously. "Fuck yeah," he muttered. "Bananas and chocolate! Marshmallows! Who could ask for more?!" He smiled excitedly, only to receive a questioning glance from Spencer.

"Right..." his best friend muttered, turning to Ryan and twirling a finger near his temple, the hand motion suggesting that Brendon had gone crazy.   

Ryan laughed lightly, nodding his head just a little before shoving his hands, one of which seemed to be oddly buzzing, into the pockets of his less-than-comfortable jeans. "It does sound pretty good, though," he conceded, looking up to where the teachers were making rounds with the supplies as well as long, wooden sticks with spiky ends.

Brendon quickly grabbed one of the sticks and was handed on banana, a chocolate bar, and some marshmallows. The bananas had already been cut into and Brendon busied himself with stuffing as much chocolate as he could fit into it. When he was finally finished, he scooted closer to the fire and gingerly let the banana drop in the pit. He waited impatiently, taking two marshmallows and swallowing them whole before the treat was finished. Carefully, he retrieved the banana by scooping it up and balancing it on his stick, before letting it fall to the ground and cool off. He was almost drooling by the time he was peeling it.

Ryan had put two marshmallows on the stick and was letting them roast over the fire, waiting for them to turn just the right shade of golden. He'd decided to save the banana for later. And suddenly he jumped when his phone went off in his pocket, shoved the stick into Spencer's hand and wriggled around for a moment until he succeeded in fishing the phone out. "Hey," he greeted simply.

"Hi, sweetie," came the familiar soft voice of his mother and he was momentarily stunned before he quickly jumped up, starting to walk away from the others.

"How did you get the number?" he asked when he'd decided he was far enough away that no one would hear.

"I called Tobias," she answered. "Reasoned with him for a few hours. He wouldn't tell me where you are, though. Please tell me you aren't in any danger, Ryan."

"I'm not," he stated, more or less truthfully. "I was sort of... in the middle of something, though. But I appreciate you calling. I've missed you."

"I missed you too," she replied. "And I was worried when I didn't hear from you for a while. I even sent letters and emails and you always answer those."

"I'm using another email at the moment," he explained, shrugging slightly. "Listen, I'll call you later. Okay?" Content that the conversation was just about over, he turned around and started to walk back towards the fire.

"So you're on a mission," she more stated than asked. "You know, you kept complaining that you weren't being taken seriously, that they wouldn't give you one. I was relieved. I worry about you, sweetie."

"I know," he answered, finally sitting back down. "I have to go now, though. Talk to you later."

"Thank you," she said. "Don't make me worry again. I love you sweetie."

He felt himself blush once again like he always did at parental affection when other people were around, even when they only heard one half of the conversation. "Love you too," he mumbled. "Bye," he added, and hung up before she could say more. Then he rolled his eyes slightly and stuffed the phone back into his pocket.

"Aw, who was that!?" Spencer asked, gobbling down a marshmallow. He looked over at Brendon, who was busy with his chocolate banana, licking the chocolate off his lips and eating it quickly. Spencer had to suppress a laugh before looking back over at Ryan and smiling.  


"My mum," he answered, holding onto the accent that had been a little too close to slipping while he had been on the phone. He cocked an eyebrow at the disbelieving look on Spencer's face. It would make sense, though, as some sort of great ironic twist that he shouldn't be believed when he was actually telling the truth for once in his life. "You ate my marshmallows, didn't you?"

Spencer froze. "What? No." He averted his eyes, swallowing the gooey mess in his mouth. Brendon laughed suddenly, apparently ignorant of the chocolate still on his bottom lip, and he nodded enthusiastically.

"He did!" He exclaimed, pointing a finger at Spencer. "He so ate your marshmallow. But it's okay; you still have your banana and chocolate, which is the best part, darling," he gave himself a British accent on the last word, then smirked at how poor he was at being British. Shrugging, he took the last bite of his banana and moaned at the taste.

Ryan tried to call a pout out on his features but couldn't help laughing, picking up his banana and chocolate as it subsided from his chest. "And I think it's a good thing you aren't English," he added. "That accent doesn't sound very good on you." Then he looked at Brendon quickly and burst out laughing again, hands momentarily shaking too much to put the chocolate into the banana. "Bloody hell, you look all of five years old," he stated when he could finally speak again, fingers working quickly with the food before he went forward a little and carefully put the banana into the fire, eating the bits of chocolate that wouldn't fit it.

Brendon scoffed, sticking out his tongue and quickly licking at anything he could get. "All gone?" He asked, looking around at Spencer and Ryan, eyebrows raised. Spencer laughed and nodded, rolling his eyes. "Wonder what we're going to do next," Brendon mused, biting the inside of his cheek in thought. "Hope we're not singing some more, eh? That would be dreadful-- ugh. I feel so full." He proceeded in rubbing his stomach and laying back down on his back in grass, looking up at the sky. "I'm going to explode."  


Spencer snorted, poking Brendon's stomach harshly. "Yeah, right."  


Another small laugh made its way out of Ryan's mouth and he went forward again to get the banana out of the fire, juggling it between his hands to keep from getting burned as he returned and sat down again, letting the fruit rest on the ground in front of him to cool off. "I don't understand why you hate singing so much," he mused. "I mean, I already like doing it, but if I were as good as you are I'd probably never shut up."

Brendon shrugged, sighing. "My voice isn't going to take me anywhere," he answered. "I just don't see the point." He continued to rub his stomach, listening to all the voices around him laughing and talking about random things. Sitting back up, Brendon leaned over and placed his head on Spencer's shoulder. "I'm tired. Let's just all hang out in my room tomorrow, all right? I'll sleep and you, Ryan and Jon can... try to get along." He snickered, remembering how much of an ass Jon was being.   


"Yeah..." Spencer trailed off, narrowing his eyes slightly. "I need to talk to him tomorrow morning, I think."

Ryan sighed, pushing away the small pang of disappointment. Caring about Brendon, caring about something as trivial as his singing, wasn't going to do him any good, only handicap him in trying to do his job. "If you really don't want to sing, I suppose we could slip away now, before it starts," he stated, feeling a little regretful at leaving already. It had been fun. But it was work. Fun came about last. Second last, really. His feelings were the absolute last. With a small grimace he picked the banana back up, peeled it carefully, and took a bite.

Brendon nodded absently and all three of them got up. Spencer informed the teachers that they were leaving and soon they were heading back towards the school.

***  


  
Brendon was on his bed, computer in his lap and his back against the headboard. He smirked when he saw that Drew was online.  
  
zeke: hello you. how are you?

The ping startled Ryan away from the beginnings of the second half of the report he was now back to working on, and he quickly minimized the email, maximizing the conversation instead.

drew: hey. i'm good. what about you?  


Brendon smiled and rubbed his stomach. He could still taste the chocolate and banana in his mouth, making him want more, but he knew that it was horrible for his health and eating more would probably end with him being sick from so much chocolate.

zeke: about ready to burst. i definitely ate too much. how was your day/night?

Ryan smiled slightly. That much he had noticed. He supposed wolfing it down hadn't exactly helped Brendon out with his stomach either.

drew: oh, sucks. i'm pretty sure i always eat too much, honestly, but with high metabolism and all it doesn't really matter. it was nice. i got some stuff done i'd been delaying for a while during the afternoon and the evening was definitely nice.

Brendon chuckled to himself. The evening had definitely been nice. He couldn't remember a time when he'd had more fun, especially seeing as he'd been surrounded by people he went to school with. It had surprised him in a very good way.

zeke: that's good. my night was really fun, too. apart from eating too much and some teacher being a complete jerk. oh well. it didn't ruin the fun too much

Yeah, Ryan definitely remembered that teacher. And just remembering made small sparks of anger flare up again. And it was stupid, really stupid because he wasn't even supposed to care about Brendon at all, and he didn't, he just hated seeing people - anybody - being treated badly. That was part of the reason he was so determined that his side won, he reminded himself. Because of the slavery that had not quite disappeared. Because these people lived in a country that stood by and did nothing when people were humiliated, beaten and had to live on the mercy of others with no control over their own lives.

drew: that's great. except for the teacher part, of course. they seem to be sort of arseholes here as well tbh, though.

Brendon snorted at the chat speak. He'd looked it up a while ago when it had been used and he now knew many abbreviations, but never found himself using them. He was glad Ryan agreed about the teacher being an ass, though.

zeke: yeah. i hate when teachers are like that. i mean... they're supposed to be mentors and such, aren't they? and then they go and... act like complete fucks.

Ryan found himself subconsciously nodding along to the line in front of him, mouth suddenly opening to let out a yawn. Odd. He hadn't even realized he was the least bit tired.

drew: me too. you're supposed to respect them and look up to them and they're supposed to set good examples. but in my experience they tend to be power-sick, little, insecure people who are stuck with a job they don't want and are incredibly jealous of the students because they have all the chances the teachers were either never good enough to get or have let pass them by.

Brendon chuckled, raising his eyebrows at Ryan's mini rant.

zeke: well, you don't seem to like them very much at all! let's not talk about teachers, then. how's it going with that crush of yours, eh?

Ryan smirked slightly, leaning back in his chair for a moment to think.

drew: some of them are all right. but the ones i've met lately. most of them are imbeciles.   
and i guess it's going okay. i mean, at least i get to spend time with him. it's not one of those irritating cases where he doesn't even know i exist.

Brendon cackled madly, shaking his head, but quickly sobered when he remembered just who the crush was. And he wasn't quite sure how he felt about it. Sure, he was flattered, and it didn't bother him nearly as much as he thought it would, but that could just be because Ryan hadn't tried anything yet. Dear God, would the boy try anything? Brendon bit his lip, suddenly quite afraid.

zeke: oh, that's good. i suppose it would be annoying if someone you liked didn't notice you...

Another yawn made its way out of Ryan's mouth and he felt his eyes puckering slightly. And suddenly the thought of finishing the report and perhaps calling his mother and finishing their conversation seemed overwhelming. How could he have become so tired so quickly?

drew: trust me, it is. but what about you? i mean, you realised you like boys, but has there ever been a specific one to spark your fancies?

Brendon almost choked on his own spit. How could he have forgotten that Ryan knew something about him, as well!? Oh, God, he wanted the floor to just swallow him up right now.

zeke: err.... no. i don't really like people. i mean, i have my best friends and that's enough. The new guy is pretty cool, too. i, uh... yeah.

Ryan smiled slightly, feeling momentarily flattered, but he immediately changed it into pride. Pride that he'd played his role well enough. He just hoped it would be enough to get the information he needed. Perhaps they'd been wrong, the directors. Perhaps Brendon had just needed the right friend to spill to.

drew: and that's the part where i never really get you. i mean closeness is incredibly important for us to thrive as people. friends, sure, but at some point people usually start to need something more. sometimes i can't help but think that you must be incredibly lonely.

Brendon peered sadly at the screen, somewhat confused. He was not lonely! Was he? No. Definitely not lonely.

zeke: there's a difference between being alone and being lonely, you know. i'm perfectly fine with the way things are at this point in my life. it could change, but all things do. i like my solitude right now. i don't ... think it would be wise, even, to date.  
  
Sighing slightly, Ryan shook his head, not even sure if it were at himself or Brendon. The Prince was kidding himself, that much was obvious. The annoying thing was that until he looked facts in the eye, Ryan wouldn't be able to do his job. There wasn't much he could do about it, though, not for a while.

drew: i know there is, but the two are also tied pretty strongly together. i'm glad you're fine with how things are, but you know i care about you, and i don't want to see you settle for the easiest way out when you could have it so much better. wise? because of your parents? you're at boarding school, right? if you play your cards right they'd never even have to know.

Brendon sighed, frowning slightly, and thought about the boys in his grade. There was no way any of them would be able to keep any relationship a secret- especially with a Prince!

zeke: i don't trust anyone in my grade to keep a secret. can you imagine if the whole fucking school knew!? it would surely get back to my parents... i don't know... it seems like it would be wrong.  


Ryan gave another small smirk. Seemed that 'a while' was a lot shorter than he'd first anticipated; all he had to do was show Brendon that the risks were worth taking, when he did find the  _right_  person.  


drew: i guess the trick would be to find someone who knows and likes you for you, and not whatever reputation or anything you have. if the person liked you, he'd risk losing what he had with you if it were to get back to your parents and that should make him as unlikely to tell your parents as you yourself. and why would it be wrong?

Brendon chewed on his lips, trying to think of what to respond with.  


zeke: i don't know. never mind. ... how would i find someone like that?  


The smirk on Ryan's face slowly turned into a smile. Either he was really making progress, or Brendon was just humouring him. There wasn't really any way to know, so he'd just disregard the latter option for the time being.

drew: come on, you're a nice guy. someone must fancy you.

Brendon chuckled, shaking his head. Good God, what was up with him, anyway?

zeke: i don't know...  


He pushed the laptop off his lap and onto the bed. Quietly, he creeped out of his bed and to the door, smirking at Zach before opening it and darting into the hall. Taking a deep breath, he knocked on Ryan's door.

Ryan nearly jumped at the knock of his door and quickly slammed the laptop shut, walking over to the door. He unlocked it and opened it cautiously, expecting Spencer (as a positive scenario) or Jon (negative one) who might have come to beat him up or something equally painful over the whole flip-flop incident. Instead he found himself face to face with Brendon, looking at the other boy for a moment before managing a slight blush, looking down and stepping back. "Hey," he muttered. "Come in."

Brendon stumbled over his words for a few seconds. "Uh, I saw your bedroom light on and... I was going down to, uh, get coffee. You want to come?" He said quickly, eyes wide. Zach was behind him, and he snorted rather loudly. Brendon turned to shoot him an irritated glare, but slowly turning back to Ryan. "Well?"

Managing a small smile, Ryan nodded. "Sure," he answered, pushing away his fatigue and the list of things he needed to get done. "Let me just get a hoodie," he added, walking further into the room and opening his closet, pulling one out and putting it on over his t-shirt. Then he returned, feeling more than just a little nervous at the sight of the large man behind Brendon. Ever since he'd seen the bodyguard on his first night there, he'd recognized him as the biggest threat on the campus, and that caused his heart to jump into his throat where it would beat frantically. Every time. Without exception. "Ready," he stated, forcing out another smile before turning around once he was out of his room, closing and locking the door behind him.

"You can stay here," Brendon said to Zach, smiling his most innocent smile. Zach lifted one eyebrow, but didn't move. "Come on! I'm at school. Nothing's going to happen!" This statement was followed by Zach chuckling and shaking his head.

"Don't be stupid, Brendon. Something could happen anywhere. But, I suppose if you're back in half an hour and have your cell phone with you, I'll leave you alone." Brendon smiled at their little deal and nodded, taking out his cell phone to show Zach and promising to be gone no longer than half an hour.  
  
  
"Let's go," he finally said, glancing at Ryan and starting down the hallway.

Ryan smiled, hurrying after the him until he caught up, secretly extremely relieved that the bodyguard had been left behind. "Thanks for... not bringing him, you know," he finally muttered. "Big guys frighten me," he admitted, blushing slightly. And this time it came naturally. "I mean, stupid as it sounds, but yeah."

Brendon snorted. "Yeah, I get it," he said, turning to wink at Ryan, then chuckling. They made it down to the cafeteria, only one of the overhead lights helping them to see. Brendon made his way to the coffee dispenser and took a Styrofoam cup from beside it before putting in a dollar and waiting for his coffee to pour. Surprisingly, the coffee there was quite good, especially after one added a lot of milk and sugar. He turned to Ryan when he was done and smirked, putting in another dollar for the boy's coffee and signaling for him to hurry up and get a cup.

Grabbing little milk and sugar packs, Brendon made his way to a table, preparing his coffee exactly as he liked it and waiting for Ryan.

Ryan waited for a moment as the dark liquid poured into the cup before it was finally full and he could pull it to him, wrapping a long-fingered hand around the Styrofoam and letting the warmth seep in. Then he quickly grabbed milk and sugar and hurried after Brendon, careful not to spill the hot drink over his fingers. Upon reaching the table, he sat down and poured the contents of the small packs into his cup, stirring quickly. "Tonight was nice," he stated, not really knowing what to say but hoping that their online conversation was what had prompted Brendon to do this. "You seemed to be enjoying it too," he added, casting the other a quick look.

Brendon sipped his coffee and nodded. "Yeah, it was actually really fun, surprisingly. Apart from singing," he snorted, "and... the teacher," he continued, feeling like he was repeating himself, which was completely understandable seeing as it was true. He took another gulp of coffee, wincing at the heat, and then put the cup down and stared at his hands.  


Snickering, Ryan took a small, careful sip of his coffee. "I still don't get why you don't like singing, but I've said that enough times already," he said, putting the coffee down on the table but keeping his hand wrapped around it as it cooled off. "And the teacher was an arse. Don't worry about him. Not worth it."

"Yeah... it just kind of surprised me. I mean, what the hell? I hadn't even done anything. I could probably fucking get him fired for saying that shit." Brendon said angrily, frowning. He rolled his eyes and took a deep breath, letting all the anger drain out of him before he did something he would regret. He took a big mouthful of coffee to make sure he wouldn't say anything else and could almost feel his lips blistering.

Ryan winced at the large amount of coffee that had to be almost literally burning its way down Brendon's throat. "Surprised me too," he stated. "And I reckon you could if you tried." Then he grinned. "Actually, all you have to do is tell him you'll get him fired and I'd bet he'd be willing to be your new best friend."

Brendon chuckled, the action making his throat ache. "Fortunately for his job, I don't abuse my power," he stated, massaging his throat with one hand. "Oh, shit, that hurts," he said, still somehow managing to laugh at the situation. He breathed in deep, hoping that the heat would subside, but it didn't really seem to be working. "I wonder if I could find some ice cubes in the kitchen," he rasped.

"Luckier than he deserves," Ryan remarked before scrambling to his feet, letting go of his cup. "I'll go check. You just... stay here." With that he scurried through the room, finding the double door into the large kitchen easily. There was a lock on the door and he figured it would probably be off limits to students, but when he grasped the handle and pulled he was surprised to actually feel it give. He didn't wonder about it too long, though.

Once inside he looked around the whole kitchen and quickly caught sight of an ice cube machine. He walked over and opened it out, ready to get some already, but found that it was empty. Shut down for the weekend perhaps. Or the night. Or it had needed cleaning. Whatever the case, he moved away from it and onward, inside until he found the large door leading into the freezer room. He went inside, teeth almost instantaneously starting to chatter at the low temperature. Wrapping his arms around himself, he went about looking for something he could use until he came by three large boxes, each containing twelve tubs of ice cream. Grinning at his success, he picked one up and fumbled in his pocket until he found his wallet and pulled up a ten. Satisfied that would more than cover the expenses, he placed it where the tub had been and all but ran out of the cold space.

He returned to the cafeteria moments later, grinning slightly as he held up his prize. He went over and sat down again, putting the tub on the table and wrapping his arms about himself, still cold. "No ice cubes," he stated as a way of explanation, finally reaching out and wrapping his hands around the cup again.

"Oh, my God! You're crazy," Brendon chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. He got up, hurrying to get two plastic spoons from the table where he'd taken the sugar and milk packs, then handed one to Ryan on his way back. Sitting down, he opened the tub of ice cream and looked inside. "Vanilla," he stated, before taking a big spoonful and shoving it into his mouth, humming happily as it soothed his throat. He looked over at Ryan and put his hand on one of the boy's arms, rubbing it up and down really fast to create some friction and thus, some heat.

Ryan smiled gratefully, letting his eyes close for a moment. "Thanks," he muttered, raising the other hand with the cup in it and taking another tentative sip. The temperature was good now, and the warmth appreciated. "I get cold too quickly," he added as way of explanation. "Too little insulation." He cracked his eyes open and smiled slightly. "Feel better?"

Brendon nodded, his hand still on Ryan's arm, and continued to eat the ice cream. "Feels really good," he said between bites, making little appreciative sounds as he ate. "You're crazy," he said again, shaking his head and laughing. He rubbed Ryan's arm one more time before taking away his hand and setting it on the table. It tingled for a few moments and Brendon stared at it, frowning, before shrugging. "But thanks," he finally added.

"Any time," Ryan answered with a slight smirk, taking another sip of coffee. It warmed nicely, and the warmed spot on his arm seemed to be spreading up to his shoulder and down into his fingers, which seemed to be prickling slightly. "I never had high thoughts about royalty," he suddenly stated, actually trying to make eye contact this time. "You're not at all what I thought you'd be. And I mean that in a good way. You're just really normal, you know? Not plain, but..." He trailed off, blushing slightly and looking away. "What I'm trying to say is that you're great and I'm pleasantly surprised."

Brendon stopped shoveling the cold treat into his mouth and looked up at Ryan. "What," he asked, ice cream visibly melting on his tongue, "just because I eat like a pig and drink coffee from a dispenser?" he teased, but managed to keep a straight face, surprisingly.  


Ryan couldn't help but burst into yet another fit of laughter, shaking his head slightly. "That definitely adds to the greatness," he stated, keeping his voice carefully free of sarcasm before another set of chuckles forced their way out through his mouth.

Brendon laughed and shook his head. "Well, for what it's worth, I'm not really surprised that I kind of like hanging out with you, because, well... I'm Zeke." Brendon flinched, angry at the words that had seemed to just tumble past his lips, a complete accident, and so tactless it made him cringe.  


Inwardly Ryan smirked, nearly letting a 'finally!' burst past his lips. Outwardly he let he jaw drop and his eyes go wide, forcing another blush to his face. "Oh my God," he breathed out, biting his lip slightly. "Oh, fuck... B-Brendon, I'm r-really... sorry," he finally stated, momentarily irritated he'd left his hat in his room. That thing could've really added to the effect.

Brendon chuckled, patting Ryan on the head. "That's quite all right, Ryan. I don't really care. I must admit, I was a bit shocked when I figured it out, but I'm fine with it now. We... both know a lot about each other, and that could definitely make things awkward, but it could also make us great friends, right?" He was rambling a bit, nervous, but he didn't really care. Poor Ryan thought he was mad or something.

Ryan let out a sigh of relief. "Thanks, that really means a lot to me," he stated softly before looking up with a small smile, bangs catching annoyingly in his eyelashes. "And I'd really like that. For you to be my friend, I mean." He shook his head slightly. "It makes so much sense now." And then he blushed again. "But God, I still can't believe I talked to  _you_  about, well, you."

"Yeah... that was kind of weird..." Brendon trailed off, then chuckled softly. "But it's okay, now. So, uh, yeah." He picked up his spoon again and started eating the ice cream, which had started to melt. He finished off his coffee as well before looking back up at Ryan and smiling nervously. "We should probably go back upstairs. Unless we have more to say...?" Truth was, Brendon did have something to say; he just didn't know how to go about it. What the hell was he supposed to say, anyway? He didn't usually have to talk about his feelings, unless he was writing those stupid journal entries...

Ryan quickly snatched a single spoonful of ice cream before nodding, getting up and wrapping his fingers around the cup again. "I guess we should," he agreed, before catching the last question, stopping his movements quickly and looking at Brendon again. "Do you have anything more to say?" he asked, keeping his voice soft and just a bit on the gentle side. "You know you can," he added. "It's still the same, you know. Except without keyboards and screens."

Brendon got up as well, clearing his throat. "Well, I- no. I don't really. Well, I suppose I do, but I just don't know... how to express it. And such." Taking a deep breath, Brendon tried again. "You know that person I need to find? The one who will like me for me and, uh, all that? I, what I'm trying to say is, thanks for, um... you know. Being there, I guess. Letting me talk. I just... it kind of feels like it could be, at some point.. you." The last sentence was let out very quickly, all in one breath and Brendon turned away from Ryan, because he just couldn't stand there and look at him while he waited for some kind of response. God, he was so embarrassed.  


A smile spread slowly over Ryan's face, and all the while his mind seemed to be split in two. The half that was celebrating his progress was battling the side that was staying rational and trying to figure out how to answer something like that. It wasn't exactly as though he'd ever been in a situation even resembling this one before. Finally he reached out and placed a hand on Brendon's shoulder, giving a slight squeeze. "I'm happy," he finally stated, "because I'd really like to be that person."

Brendon smiled slightly before turning to look at Ryan, then it vanished. "All right. That's cool," he said, his voice much stronger than before. "Back to the dorms now before we get into trouble, I suppose." And with that he walked away, not bothering to check if Ryan was behind him. He walked the whole way back to his dorm in silence, aware that Ryan was following him, and only turned to look at the other boy when he'd reached his door. He cleared his throat and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Well, that was... fun."

Ryan was more than just a little taken aback by the sudden shift in Brendon's behaviour but had followed him wordlessly, keeping his confusion at bay. He wanted to ask what was going to happen next, what Brendon wanted now, but kept the questions in, sensing that the other boy wouldn't know how to deal with them right at that moment. He glanced at Brendon and smiled. "It was," he agreed, but something was telling him this wasn't exactly the good way to end the night. If it was only this - words - he couldn't be sure Brendon wouldn't just go back and pretend nothing had happened. And so he leaned forward a little, tilting his head slightly to the side and pressed his lips quickly against Brendon's, letting the kiss linger for just a moment before he pulled back, smiling sheepishly. "Good night," he said before turning around and walking back to his own room, adamant that he would have to delete everything he'd written of the report and rewrite the whole thing.

Brendon's eyes had gone wide from the moment Ryan had started approaching. Now, as he watched the door close, he gaped at the boy and gasped to himself. Quickly looking around the hallway to make sure no one had seen, Brendon hurriedly unlocked his door and slipped into his room, pushing the door shut. He looked at Zach, forced a smile, and then threw himself onto is bed. He hoped sleep would come quickly tonight, because he sure as hell didn't want to think right now.


	7. Chapter 7

It was 8:30 when Spencer slipped out of his dorm room, making sure not to make any noise. He'd gotten a call from Brendon about half an hour earlier, the boy claiming that he 'needed his best friend', sounding desperate unlike Spencer had ever heard him before until Spencer, still half asleep, had agreed to get up and come at the ungodly hour. He'd showered quickly and gotten dressed in his church clothes, aware that he would probably be with Brendon until it was time for church, and then quietly hurried down the hallway to knock on Brendon's door. Zach opened it quickly, and Spencer entered the room to see Brendon's slightly bloodshot eyes and disheveled hair. He hurried to his friend's side, frowning and asking what was wrong.  
  
And so Brendon had told Spencer everything. Well, an edited version of everything. How he'd been talking to Ryan online, and how he'd figured everything out and how Ryan had kissed him! The edited parts were last night's nervous rambling, which made no appearance as he recounted the events. Spencer sat beside him, quite shocked on one hand, but happy on the other.  
  
"So, what you're trying to say is that you're actually... dating someone?" He asked, finally, when Brendon had finished. This questions earned him a glare and Brendon huffed, rolling his eyes.  
  
"No, of course not. We're just... mutually attracted to each other? I don't know." He sighed, momentarily at a loss for words. A few minutes later, Spencer stood from the bed and shrugged.  
  
"Well, you know, it could be worse. Let's just see how it goes, all right? Now, I have to go wake up Jon. Want to come?" Nodding, Brendon followed Spencer to the door and out into the hallway. "Since when have you been awake, anyway? You look exhausted."  
  
"Most of the night. Got dressed around 5:30 this morning and I've been lying in my bed since," Brendon mumbled. "I guess I just needed to think." He stated, as they arrived to Spencer's dorm room. He waited in the hallway as Spencer woke Jon and yelled at him to get ready for church, smiling slightly at his friends.

A little down the hall, Ryan started awake at the sound of his alarm clock going off, and all he wanted to do was burrow back under the covers and sleep for another few weeks. After doing something unspeakable to shut the damn alarm up, that is. He'd been up till well past four with the report, hadn't even gotten around to calling his mother back. And now, far too few hours later, he had to get up and somehow become presentable for church. He didn't even want to go to church! He was perfectly content being an atheist, thanks very much.

Nonetheless, he finally managed to drag his lanky body out of the comfortable warmth of his covers and went into the bathroom to shower and get ready.

Thirty minutes later he reappeared with a towel around his waist, hair dried and styled and just a tad of eyeliner framing his eyes. He quickly went to his closet and pulled out, breathing a small sigh of relief as he was at it, a pair of dress pants, a blue button-up and a blazer before laying them on the bed as he went to the set of drawers to find fresh socks and underwear.

After a look at his watch he got dressed quickly, leaving the room in a hurry. He was not about to miss breakfast or there was no way he'd be able to function for the rest of the day. He jogged down the hall, stairs, another hall, around a corner and finally found himself in the cafeteria where he picked up a plate and started stacking breakfast onto his plate.

Brendon, Spencer, and Jon entered the cafeteria only a few minutes after Ryan and all set out to get their breakfast. Brendon zipped through the line, only picking up a coffee and filling his plate with some fruit. He went and sat down at his usual table, picking at the fruit and drinking the coffee in almost one gulp. He looked over at Spencer, who was smirking and pointing at Ryan, and at Jon, who was looking better, if not utterly bewildered. Brendon shook his head and snorted, eating a big piece of watermelon.  
  
"What's going on?" Jon asked as he approached the table. Brendon responded by staring at his plate and shrugging.  
  
Ryan finished pouring his tea and finally headed over for the table, hoping, when hit by a sudden impulse, that he would still be welcomed. Well, by two thirds of them anyway. He approached cautiously, slowly, and when no one told him to get lost, he sat down, smiling slightly. "Morning," he said. And he was well aware that at the moment he was the one who was acting like nothing had happened, but how else was he supposed to act when, really, he and Brendon hadn't talked, hadn't figured anything out. And he was almost certain Jon knew nothing, not as certain about Spencer. But everywhere was also full of people so for the time being, this was the best he could come up with.

"Well, hello Ryan! Welcome to the family!" Spencer exclaimed, then laughed loudly. Jon frowned at him, obviously trying to figure out what was going on, and Brendon glared at him before kicking him hard in the shin. Spencer gasped, almost yelling out because of the pain, but he managed not to by biting hard into his lip. He glared right back at Brendon before turning to Ryan and smiling sweetly. "How did  _you_  sleep?"  


"Fine," Ryan answered. "The few hours I did sleep, anyway. I had some homework I needed to catch up with." Secretly he was grateful that he had already been to high school and that most of the homework was pretty easy to him. And to top it off, what looked like it would take too much time and thereby take away from his mission he was allowed to send back where some unfortunate agent with a desk job would do it for him before sending it back. Homework provided for an ever-fresh excuse for the reports, though. "What about you guys? Spencer explained the flip-flop thing, right Jon?"

Jon nodded slowly, still trying to figure out what was different, even as Spencer giggled like he knew some big secret. "Could someone please tell me what's going on?" He groaned, taking a bite of eggs. Spencer smiled at him, but didn't talk. He kept looking at Ryan and Brendon. "And what the hell is going on between you two?" He pointed his fork at Brendon, obviously expecting an answer.  
  
"Uh, nothing," Brendon smiled, trying to look innocent. "Ohhh, you mean me and Ryan! Well, we kissed." He stated bluntly before smiling again and going back to eating.  
  
The sudden blush spreading across Ryan's cheeks was completely unintentional. As was the fact that he was choking on the mouthful of tea he'd been about to swallow and very nearly spurted in all over the table. " _Bren_ don," he whined, burying his face in his hands to hide his embarrassment. For a moment he felt back in high school as it had originally been, full of humiliations and people laughing at him and he blushed even more. All he could do was reassure himself that for his country and for the principles of right, as opposed to wrong, he'd go through a hundred high schools.

Jon gaped at Brendon, while Spencer chuckled and patted Ryan's back comfortingly. "What?!" Jon gaped, eyes as wide as dinner plates. Brendon rolled his eyes and looked back up, one eyebrow lifted. "What do you mean you  _kissed_?!"

"Well, I'm sure you've done it a few times before. Ryan leaned in last night, pressed his lips to mine, and then scurried off. Though, with you, it might usually involve vomiting, but I'm sure you recognize the action." Brendon replied sarcastically. Jon was turning red with rage, his hands shaking as he let his fork drop.

"He turned you gay!" He whispered harshly, leaning forward towards Brendon, who scoffed and rolled his eyes.  
  
"Don't say that!" Spencer reprimanded, smacking Jon upside the head and huffing, still rubbing Ryan's back. "And stop being an ass, too."  
  
Ryan honestly felt as though his face was burning up. He could feel the heat in the fingers and hands covering the blush. He was incredibly grateful for the soothing motions of Spencer's hand on his back. Right now that was the only thing helping him calm down. A part of him wanted to jump up and scream that Brendon had been gay long before Ryan had even known him, that Ryan was the straight one and could they please keep their stupid teenage drama away from him. Instead he took a deep breath and finally pulled his hands away, sending Spencer a meek smile. "Thanks," he muttered before biting down slightly on his lower lip, the tips of his ears still feeling like they'd caught fire. Then he looked down at his plate and stabbed a sausage with his fork, determined to just distract himself with the plate that was still full of food.

"Don't be stupid, Jon," Brendon replied calmly. "He did not  _turn_  me gay. You cannot just suddenly, out of nowhere, turn gay." Brendon got up, pushing his plate away. "If you want the details, you can ask Spencer. He'll tell you everything you need to know, though I dare say you don't deserve to know any of it. I'm going to start walking towards the chapel. If anyone wants to join me," he looked pointedly at Ryan, "they are welcome." With that, Brendon left.

Jon, unable to say anything coherent, went back to eating his breakfast, looking rather cross and like he would bite someone's head off if they so much as tried to talk to him. Spencer watched him closely, waiting for the inevitable questions that would surely come some time soon. He glanced over at Ryan and gave him a sympathetic look before patting the boy's hand and pulling away completely.

Ryan sent Spencer another small smile before pushing his plate away and getting up, running until he caught up with Brendon, momentarily grateful to be away from Jon. But he was unsure about this too, unsure of where he stood with Brendon, what was supposed to happen now. He slowed down his pace, falling into step next to Brendon. He was still looking at his feet. "Sorry about that by the way," he muttered. "I thought, but... it was wrong of me to assume that just because of the talk we'd had it would be okay to just-- just kiss you like that."    


"You have nothing to apologize for," Brendon mumbled without looking at Ryan. He kept looking straight ahead, his hand brushing against Ryan's purposely. "Jon just needs to wrap his head around this. I don't know what 'this' is, but he does. So do I, you know." He shrugged, stopping in front of a small auditorium. "We still have about half an hour before church," he said, smiling slightly. "I don't really know why I left breakfast so fast..."

Shrugging slightly, Ryan let himself slide down the wall with a small smile until he hit the floor. "What is this, then?" he asked, looking up at Brendon. He sensed that the boy was calmer now, much calmer, and perhaps in an actual shape to be asked these questions. "Where do we go from here?"

"Well, usually I'd just go into the church and sit in the pews until it actually starts..." Brendon trailed off and grinned. "I don't know. You have more experience in this than I do. But I can assure you that I am very different from anyone else you've dated. Unless you've dated royalty before, that is. There would be the whole thing where we can't show any affection in public..." he trailed off, shrugging. "I don't know. It would be complicated, don't you think? I mean, do you really think it's worth it?"

"I think it would be," Ryan answered without missing a heartbeat. Secretly, the irony of Brendon thinking he had more experience when really, they both had to be on the same level of none-at-all was not missed by him at all. "I mean, I was already attracted to you when I just knew you as Brendon, but knowing that you're Zeke, just. I think it would be worth it, if you want to. And the reason I asked you even though I know you've never tried anything like this before is that I understand your situation and I know we have to go by your rules. And that doesn't bother me." He flashed the boy a small smile. "I really like you, and if you'd be willing to try to pursue this, I wouldn't miss it for the world."

Brendon couldn't help smiling at Ryan's words. He blushed slightly, looking away, then glanced back at Ryan and nodded. "Okay. Well, we'll just... keep it quiet, all right? I guess it could be worth it. I'm growing quite fond of you, here, as a real person, and I was definitely already fond of you as Drew, so... yeah." He smiled sheepishly and sat down beside Ryan, nodding to himself.

"Yeah," Ryan agreed, smiling slightly and placing his hand reassuringly on Brendon's forearm for a moment before withdrawing. There wasn't anybody around, but it was still very much out in the open. "And just for the record, I'm very fond of you too," he added, shuffling to the side a little and letting one leg fall to an angle where their knees touched lightly, inconspicuously. He had a feeling he was supposed to do something like that, though.

Brendon leaned his head against the wall and smiled softly. "Thanks," he said, before turning his head slightly to look at Ryan and biting his lip. He could hear distant voices and no doubt some students would be arriving soon. Sighing, Brendon put his hand on Ryan's knee, squeezing just slightly, and then pushed himself up off the ground. "Let's go sit in there." He said, motioning towards the auditorium they used as a chapel.

***

After lunch all four boys filed back to Brendon's room for the nice, 'quiet', cozy little afternoon they'd planned the night before. Ryan was not at all certain about it, though. First off, Jon's hostility seemed to have risen to previously unknown levels, which just made everything uncomfortable. And then of course there was the fact that although he was supposed to be the experienced one, he had no idea what to really do with the whole Brendon situation. He inwardly groaned at the thought of having to ask Tobias advice sometime sooner or later. Probably sooner.

He entered the room, trailing after the others and sat absent-mindedly on the couch in the sitting area of the single room, finally deciding to actually take his time to look about the room. As Jon and Spencer had mentioned two days before, it did look quite empty, almost like his own except Brendon didn't have any of the memorabilia out he did. He supposed enough people saw the Royal family on the TV to make it unnecessary to try to convince anyone he was who he said and had the family he pretended to.

Brendon stood near his door, looking between Spencer and Jon (who were, as usual, sprawled across his bed), and to Ryan on the two-man couch. He then turned to look at Zach and bit his lip. "Wouldn't you want to, um, stay outside the door?" He asked, only to receive a glare from Zach. But the man opened the door and stepped out into the hallway, knowing that Brendon obviously wanted to be alone with his friends. When the bodyguard was gone, Brendon very slowly made his way to the couch and sat down beside Ryan, feeling just a little more than uncomfortable about the whole thing. He looked up to see Spencer grinning and Jon pouting.

Ryan felt a small smile tug at his lips and sent Brendon a short look before looking back down at the hands he'd twined in his lap. He was still unsure of what to say or do in the situation and finally settled on pulling his hands apart and putting one down next to him, near the middle of the couch. Then Brendon could take it or not and thereby decide the pace of the whole thing. He looked up at Jon and Spencer, cocking an eyebrow. "You two are never this silent," he stated, leaning into the backrest.

Spencer cocked his head to the side to look at Ryan and smirked. "We're trying not to disrupt the mood," he said, nodding. "Right, Jon?" Jon grunted, but didn't reply otherwise. Spencer chuckled and shook his head. "And it's just too rare to ruin this, right Brendon?" To this, Brendon blushed slightly and glared at Spencer. His eyes dropped to the couch and he noticed Ryan's hand. Biting the inside of his cheek, Brendon listened to the voice in his head (which oddly sounded a lot like Spencer) and placed the tips of his fingers on Ryan's, then looked away quickly. God, this was awkward. He kind of wished Jon would say something, so that everything could go back to some semblance of normal.

Biting back a laugh, Ryan shook his head slightly at Spencer's comments, forcefully ignoring the tiny shivers that ran through him at the light pressure on his fingers. It was natural that he'd react that way, though. After all, he'd never been in a relationship, never been used to that kind of affection at all, and he was extremely nervous, so of course the touch would have to do  _something_  to him. He mentally gritted his teeth and turned his hand with slow, steady movements until his palm was turned up and pressed lightly against Brendon's. "Head feeling better?" he asked Jon, trying to sound neutral about it and not, well, glowering. Although he secretly sort of was. On normal conditions he wouldn't really have addressed Jon at all, but right now he was sort of desperate for the silence and awkwardness to go away. "By the way, my dad told me they finished the website if you want to see for yourself."

Brendon chuckled at the look on Jon's face, moving about a fraction of an inch closer to Ryan. Jon looked up at Ryan, his mouth hanging open and his eyes shooting daggers. "I don't care anymore," he said, and suddenly his whole expression changed. If Spencer hadn't known Jon, he would have believed the smile was real. Jon continued to smile, even as he continued talking. "Apparently, you've been accepted into our group, even though it has only been a week. And if Brendon trusts you, then I trust you." He smiled wider, his eyes big and round, making him look more than just a little creepy. Spencer swatted him and that got him to stop smiling. "What? It's true! I guess I can stop bugging Ryan, now. Of course, the whole homosexual thing between him and Brendon is kind of weird, but..." He trailed off, shrugging.

Ryan felt his eyes widen slightly in surprise, which almost immediately turned into a sort of prejudiced disbelief. He then fought that down and settled on relief, smiling slightly. At least he, hopefully, wouldn't have to deal with Jon being a prat anymore. "We've known each other for longer than that," he finally stated, figuring Brendon must've already told Spencer, but it seemed just as obvious that Jon didn't know. "But thanks, I appreciate it." He moved his fingers slightly until they were parallel with the spaces between Brendon's so all one of them would have to do would be bend his fingers and they'd be laced. "So we've established that my dad isn't some crazy English mobster with secret plans of world domination, starting with Beauregia?"

Jon snorted. "I suppose so," he conceded, smiling genuinely when Spencer put his arm around his shoulders. Jon chuckled and leaned his head on Spencer's chest. Brendon watched them, both eyebrows raised, and was promptly flipped off by Jon. He chuckled and shook his head, his fingers bending slightly so that they were laced loosely with Ryan's. "So, what's new with you, Spencer?" he asked, trying to get the attention on him for a change. Spencer shrugged.

"My father called sometime after church and told me that your father was planning on bringing you home for the weekend sometime soon," he said, then smiled. "I'm sure your parents will be calling in the next few weeks," he added, causing Brendon to groan.

"Hey, one weekend isn't so bad," Ryan stated with a small smile, bending his fingers too and squeezing lightly in reassurance. He looked around the others, biting his lip to keep from smiling again when he caught sight of Spencer and Jon. That was how the enmity had really started, wasn't it? Jon thinking he was advancing on Spencer. Territory protection. It was a little amusing. As was the fact that neither of them was probably aware of it. "Will you two be going back to Jackson too, then?" he asked, letting his eyes stay on the two for a moment before moving them back to rest on Brendon's face for a little, smiling again, broader this time.

Jon barked a laugh and Spencer rolled his eyes at him. "Of course not," Jon replied, shaking his head. "Spencer goes home on holidays only, just like me. Our parents are far too busy for us to pop in on weekends. And going with Brendon would kind of be... weird." He frowned slightly as he thought of it. "Besides, Brendon would never invite us to the castle, would you, Brendon?"

Brendon blushed again, frowning. "Well, uh. I didn't think you guys would like to see it..." he trailed off, knowing that the reason sounded stupid, even to him. "It would be too awkward with my parents..."

Ryan squeezed gently again, looking back at the other two boys. "I was just trying to find out if I'd be left alone here on weekends and not just holidays," he stated. And secretly he wished he would've been. Perhaps he'd finally have time to write reports without it stealing from his sleep. Besides, he'd always liked having his hermit time. It didn't matter, though. It was a job. He wasn't supposed to like it, so it really didn't matter. He carefully avoided commenting on Brendon's slight ramble, guessing that the other boy really didn't feel like elaborating or anything. He already sounded as though he'd been chased into a corner, which wasn't really helping the case at all.

"Don't worry Ryan, you'll only be alone for the holidays," Jon said, snickering. Spencer frowned at him, hitting Jon's arm, and shook his head.

"You could always come with one of us. All that's left, anyway, is Easter and... stuff. It's not like you're going to be alone for Christmas, thank God." he said, shaking his head as though he couldn't believe that someone might be alone for Christmas. Brendon grinned and nodded.

"Well, maybe you could all come home with me for Easter?" he suggested. "I'm sure I could talk my... mother into it."  
  
Ryan perked up at the suggestion, grinning widely. "I'd love that," he stated. And the positive reaction was entirely genuine. He sincerely hoped that going to the actual capital, the castle at that, would perhaps give him an opportunity to learn more, learn something he needed to know. Or, perhaps, being there in itself might prompt Brendon into telling him something that it would've otherwise seemed suspicious to ask him. "I could always show you England in a week or so this summer," he added, addressing the room as a whole. It was a bit early to only invite Brendon, he'd deemed. Not that it really mattered. By summer he'd be out of there never to see any of them again. And then a summer visit would be the smallest promise broken.

Brendon grinned and smiled, squeezing Ryan's hand harder than was necessary. "England is amazing," he stated, nodding. "But, anyway, what are we doing today? Just sitting around here, or do we have better plans?" 

Spencer shrugged, then gasped loudly. "Ah, shit! I had homework for Monday!" He pulled himself away from Jon, off the bed, and shook his head. "Sorry guys, but I have to go. Really, sorry. Jon, come on." He waved at Brendon and Ryan before pulling Jon up and dragging him away. In the hallway, Spencer smiled at Zach before walking quickly to his room, Jon whining behind him.  
  
Back in the room, Brendon lifted his eyebrows and looked at Ryan. "That was weird." He said, adding, 'and a complete lie' to himself.  
  
"That was completely obvious," Ryan stated, chuckling slightly. "And I thought Spencer was good at being discrete." And then suddenly the whole alone thing occurred to him and he was starting to feel awkward again, looking down at their hands. He gave another small squeeze, for some reason hoping to reassure himself as much as Brendon. And then, of course, there was the part of him that still wasn't exactly convinced that all this was real.

Brendon smiled nervously and suddenly pulled his hands away, unlacing their fingers, and wiped it on his pants. "Getting kind of sweaty," he said as way of explanation, blushing from his neck to his hairline. He looked away briefly before his gaze flitted back to Ryan. "So..?" he asked, feeling completely out of place. What was he supposed to do? Should he kiss Ryan? No. Definitely not. His big, stupid lips would just mess everything up, probably. Well, they could just talk, maybe. But maybe Ryan wanted them to kiss? Oh, no, Brendon didn't know anything about kissing, unless it was to air-kiss someone's cheek. He would definitely fail, and then Ryan would be disgusted and leave. Or something.

"So..." Ryan mirrored, managing another small smile. There was something undeniably adorable about the boy in front of him, and he didn't even know why he was thinking it. He figured that perhaps it was a help, though. He should be grateful he, at least, wasn't completely disgusted or anything. Even if he was a boy. He was almost completely unsure of what to do now. The atmosphere felt too awkward for him to really come up with anything to say and... perhaps it would serve everything better to at least take another small step forward. It was a handicap that he had no experience, though. He had no idea how to hug someone intimately, or kiss someone, or... anything, basically. But, he reminded himself, neither did Brendon. So perhaps he wouldn't be able to tell if Ryan were bad. Or just put it down to nerves. Even if he was supposedly experienced, it was only natural that there were some nerves with someone new who he was supposed to obviously like. Right? Sucking in a deep breath, he fought down the ramble in his brain and reached out the hand that hadn't been twined with Brendon's, placing it on the boy's cheek. He let the pad of his thumb stroke slowly up and down the soft skin of Brendon's newly shaven cheek and took yet another deep breath before he swallowed his fears and started to lean forward, slow enough to give Brendon an out if he wanted it.

Brendon squeezed his eyes shut and braced himself for what was about to happen. He reminded himself not to think, because that just might mess things up even more, and just to do what he felt was right. That could definitely work. Ryan's lips were wet. Or, perhaps, his own lips were wet and he just didn't know the difference. His own lips felt huge when pressed against Ryan's, and he was scared for a moment that Ryan would pull away, wiping his mouth, and never want to kiss Brendon again, for fear of being swallowed whole. Things like that didn't happen, did they? He really needed to stop thinking. Besides, their lips sort of fit, with Ryan's bottom lip nestled between Brendon's top and lower lips. Brendon parted his own lips, slightly, didn't know what he was doing, and pressed back on Ryan more insistently. Why did his hands suddenly feel so useless? He brought one up to clutch Ryan's hair and, yeah, that felt about right. After only a few seconds that could have been hours, Brendon pulled back, his eyes still closed, and smiled sheepishly when they fluttered open. God, Ryan was still really close. He dove back in again, pressing his lips against Ryan's, and hoped he wasn't complete crap at this whole thing.

Ryan found himself briefly wondering why he had waited all these years for this, but pushed the thought away, settling on being pleased that Brendon wasn't as hesitant as he'd feared. He turned his body a little so he was facing Brendon more on the couch and raised his free hand, letting it settle on the boy's shoulder. Out of instinct, mostly, he tilted his head slightly and the contact between their lips became a little closer, the pressure of Brendon's lips against his own heavier, firmer. His eyes had fluttered shut without any command a moment ago, and he was content to let them stay that way. This was easier than he'd thought, felt almost natural in a way. He made an effort to push the word 'feel' out of his system entirely and tried to remember anything he'd read or seen or heard that might help him with this. Finally he nervously opened his mouth a little bit more than it had already fallen and let his tongue dart out to prod gently at Brendon's bottom lip.

Well, Brendon sure as hell didn't know what to do about that, but it seemed his mouth knew and as he sucked on Ryan's tongue, he frowned in concentration and focused just on doing this right. His mouth was now opened against Ryan's, his tongue tasting something wholly unfamiliar but not unpleasant. Ryan's tongue felt odd against his own, slick and wet, but Brendon was beginning to realize what he'd missed in choosing not to date. He sighed through his nose, forehead still wrinkled in concentration, and let his tongue delve into Ryan's mouth once, before quickly pulling it back and then pulling back himself. He panted slightly for a few seconds, then averted his eyes to the floor and cleared his throat. His lips felt odd, like they had fallen asleep and now had pins and needles pricking them. Brendon bit into them, wanting to make it stop, but smiling about it at the same time. He looked back at Ryan. Was he supposed to say something?

The smile on Ryan's face, for some reason, had come on its own and was completely earnest. His lips were tingling and there was a hint of an unfamiliar taste - Brendon - lingering in his mouth. He found himself idly wondering if perhaps this whole thing wouldn't be as bad as he'd thought. And then pushed the thought away. It was just lips, and Brendon had lips that were as full, and probably soft, not that Ryan would know, as those belonging to most girls he'd seen. This was all about suddenly having opportunities he'd never had, or never pursued, before. And then he pushed that away too. His own suddenly rising confusion would have to be dealt with later. Right now he had to deal with the fact that he had no idea what one was supposed to do in the aftermath of a kiss. No idea at all. He took a couple of deep breaths, letting himself calm down before finally letting his hand drop from Brendon's cheek before, impulsively, snaking the other one around the younger male's shoulders. "That was nice," he finally commented breathily, somehow feeling sure that Brendon would appreciate the reassurance as well.

Brendon bit his lip and chuckled uneasily. He moved a bit closer to Ryan, leaning into his side. "Really?" he asked quietly, playing absently with a loose thread on his jeans. Was he supposed to say something back? 'Hey, Ryan, you're a hell of a good kisser?' Would that be taken as a compliment, or would that just sound completely weird?

Ryan let the fingers resting where he held Brendon's shoulder start up a slow, idle pattern, almost on their own accord. He nodded, smiling. "Really," he assured, impulsively leaning in to press a quick peck against the boy's cheekbone. He was almost tempted to ask what came next, but he wasn't supposed to be the one with the questions. He was supposed to know it all, to have done it all before. Right then, though, he was just relieved Brendon hadn't sensed how incredibly nervous and unsure and, well, inexperienced the kiss had really been. From Ryan's side anyway. He guessed he just had to be grateful it was new territory for both of them, because if Brendon had ever tried it before he'd surely have noticed Ryan's inadequacies.

Brendon chuckled. "Thanks," he said, bringing one of his hands up and taking Ryan's free hand in his. "I suppose since I'm not repulsed and actually liked it- a lot- it was ok _ay_ ," he teased, squeezing Ryan's hand. He jumped about a mile in the air when his phone rang, the sound loud and annoying. Sighing, Brendon got up, letting Ryan's hand slip from his grasp, and walking over to the phone. Picking it up, Brendon pressed the receiver to his ear and sighed. "Brendon Urie, how may I help you?" he asked, twisting the cord around in his fingers. "Oh, hello mother... no, I'm good, how are you? ... Oh, that's good. What's the occasion? ... Oh.. Okay. Yeah. I know. Yes, mother, I'll see you then." With that, Brendon waited a few seconds before hanging up. He turned back to Ryan and shrugged.

Ryan snorted slightly, shaking his head. "The weekend thing?" he asked before letting his eyebrows suddenly narrow in confusion. "What's up with the Urie thing? I thought your name was Beauregard." Then he quickly reached out and snatched Brendon's hand back in his own after noticing that the phone had been put away. He'd been pleased with having the other boy take the initiative for at least something a moment before and wasn't about to let go of that bit of progress. Then he rolled his eyes. "And who are you kidding anyway? 'Okay' doesn't cut it." So perhaps okay more than cut it, but hopefully a display of confidence would make it seem better, in retrospect, than he suspected he had actually been.

"Hmm?" Brendon looked over to the phone, then back at Ryan and bit his lip. "Oh, um, my mom's maiden name is Urie... I use it everywhere but at school and, well, when I'm in the castle or with my parents. It's just easier- slightly less known than Beauregard, though not by much." He shrugged again, chuckling when Ryan held his hand. He walked closer, rolling his eyes at Ryan's comment and choosing to ignore it. "So, I'm going home in two weeks for the weekend. Leaving Friday night and coming back Sunday during the day. Apparently, my father has important things to discuss with me. Joy," he said sarcastically, sitting down beside Ryan again.

"It's just a weekend," Ryan said, offering another smile. He seemed to be doing that far too much. How was no one ever able to tell that they were fake? He supposed people just tended to only see the things they wanted to see. "It can't be that bad." He squeezed the hand in his own gently and shuffled just an inch or two closer on the couch until their thighs were touching and he could easily lean to the side a bit, letting his head rest lightly on Brendon's shoulder. He suspected that the other boy didn't like to feel young and inexperienced and like he was always the one slightly behind and hoped that small gestures like that one may ease that feeling a little.

Brendon smiled faintly. "Yeah, but when he wants to talk to me it usually involves either stupid interviews for horrible magazines, or he thinks my grades are slipping," he said, then awkwardly placed his arm behind Ryan's neck without letting their hands let go. He sighed, stroking Ryan's hand with his thumb. "This is weird," he whispered, chuckling. "Yesterday we were barely even friends."

"Doesn't sound too pleasant," Ryan agreed, leaning into the slight hold. "I'd say you'll survive." Then he grinned softly, flicking his gaze up to meet Brendon's dark eyes. "We were, though," he corrected. "I just didn't know it." Then he wrinkled his nose slightly, biting down on his bottom lip just a little. "Too weird?"

Brendon shook his head. "No, a good kind of weird," he snorted. "Whatever that means." He leaned back into the couch more, tightening his arm around Ryan's neck slightly. "I guess we were friends... but that was over the internet. I don't know. It feels kind of weird, doesn't it?" He asked, confusing himself slightly. He didn't know why, but he still felt as though Ryan was somewhat of a stranger, even though he knew it wasn't true. He wondered if Ryan felt the same about him.

"I get what you mean," Ryan stated, voice still lowered slightly as though being this close made loud speak... he didn't even know. Unfitting? "It's suddenly strange to talk without a screen, face to face, without having time to think out the best way to respond. I guess it's more honest in a way." And inside he was close to cringing. It was less honest, much less honest. On the computer he only lied with words. Here and now it was his words, his actions, his looks, his body language, everything. And he had absolutely no idea where that sudden pang of guilt came from. He pushed it away quickly, mentally grumbling about being too honest for a job like this. Honest, yeah right. "But I'm glad it's a good kind of weird. I'd hate it if I managed to scare you off."

Brendon nodded, relieved. "Yes, you're absolutely right about everything. It's kind of, uh, scary sometimes, you know? But I think we're going just fine... I mean, it could be worse, right? At least we've made it through the first kiss." Brendon paused and smiled. "Hey, you want to go eat dinner?"

"Yeah," Ryan mumbled in agreement to pretty much the assessments he'd just heard. "And dinner would be nice," he added. But when he felt the other boy start to let him go, he quickly leaned in again, pressing their lips together gently and making sure to shift the pressure a little even if he was keeping his mouth shut. Then he pulled back, smiling slightly. "That count as making it through the second?"


	8. Chapter 8

Sending the report Sunday night had been more than just a little strange for Ryan. It had felt almost wrong to write it, even if he hadn't said anything specific, just something about progress, physical as well as personal, between them. It was weird, though. Not only the fact that he was sharing Brendon's first kiss with the bureau, which felt dodgy enough, but also the fact that it was his own first, a significant milestone in his own life. Something which no one really cared about since it was all work. No one really cared that he had always thought that his first kiss would not only be with a girl, but also with someone who knew and understood not to expect too much of him. He'd always thought it would be honest.

Then there was the email he'd received from Tobias the following morning which said things like 'way to go, my man!' and 'second base already' and 'oh, I just realized we sent you off unprepared. I'll do something about that' and he'd been angrier with his roommate than he remembered ever having been before. The anger was made better by being laced with a sense of dread about what Tobias would do something about, and how. He'd written an angry email in which he'd told his friend to stay out of it, and that second base was definitely pulling it a bit beyond the reality of the situation. And then he hadn't heard anything more about that matter since and was almost convinced that Tobias really had decided to stay out of it.

That was until lunch, Thursday, when some kid ran around, giving out people's mail. And he'd put a decent sized box on the table in front of Ryan. The box was a plain white with no brands or anything on, and the sender address was some Internet company he had never heard of. For good reason, probably. And he was definitely content not to open it right then and there. Not ever, really. And then he quickly pushed it aside, under his chair, and returned to his food, sending the others a weak smile.

"What's that?" Jon asked, mouth full of food as he pointed at Ryan. He really wanted to know what was in that package. Getting packages in the mail was always interesting. They usually meant presents, or perhaps even just more soap and toiletries from parents. He turned to Brendon and saw him trying to be discreet about eyeing the package under Ryan's chair, but it wasn't working very well and Jon smirked. "Come on, Ryan, you can't just receive something like that and then hide it from us. Honestly."  
  
Brendon made a small sound of agreement, remembering numerous times before where he'd been forced to open random packages in front of Jon and Spencer. "It's kind of a rule, in a way." He said, shrugging.  
  
"I have a feeling I never wanted to open this either way," he stated, but caved and reached under his chair for the package. He pushed his plate away and put the box in front of him, starting to work with the tape before he could finally tilt it open a bit, peeking inside the gap that was too small for anyone else to see. The first thing he saw was a note, printed, with a company logo on the top of the page. He carefully pulled it out, realizing it was one of those notes customers could send in gift packages even if they'd never been anywhere near the contents themselves.

_Hey, Ry. Promised I'd make sure you were equipped, right? Here's everything you should need. Hope I'm not too late. Have fun and be **safe**. Tobe._

That didn't bode well, at all. "I'm not opening this here," he stated. "It's from my crazy, sex-obsessed brother who's probably been addicted since he was fourteen or something and can't get through his mind that I'm not the same." He tucked the note carefully back into the box, avoiding looking at the other contents, and put it quickly back under his chair.

Jon snorted, then burst out laughing. Covering his hands with his face, he threw his head back, letting out loud guffaws like there was no tomorrow. It was only when Spencer hit his arm that his laughter died down to chuckles. Jon wiped the tears of laughter from his eyes and shook his head. "Oh, God, this is too good." He stated, shaking his head. He stretched in his chair, still laughing somewhat, and when his feet landed on the box, he pretended that nothing was happening and carefully pulled the box closer. It took him a few times, but he finally manoeuvred it around without hitting Ryan's legs, and got the box right underneath his own chair. Reaching down for it, he plucked it off the floor and then onto the table, smiling innocently.

Now it was Brendon's turn to laugh, though he was feeling a bit embarrassed about everything. How the hell had Jon managed that? He shook his head, looking at Ryan for his reaction, much like Jon was doing.

Ryan was pretty sure he knew almost exactly what was in the package, and when he realized Jon had it he automatically clawed out for it, only to have Jon pull it out of his reach with a broad grin. And then there was really nothing he could do. They were going to see and it would be total and utter humiliation. The situation, although completely different, was a little too much like his original high school, and he could feel a blush spreading furiously over his face as he leaned back in his chair and hid in his hands, just hoping Jon would at least be discreet enough that no one outside their table would see anything.   


Brendon chuckled when Ryan tried to grab the package back, but when the boy leaned back in his chair, hands covering his face, the smile quickly disappeared. He inched his chair closer to Ryan and patted his head before turning to Jon. "Hey, maybe we can not do this. How about openi--" Brendon stopped, realizing that Jon was ignoring him and had opened the package already. Jon's smile dropped, then the corners of his mouth curled into something that looked much too evil to be a smile.  
  
"Oh, score," he said, looking up at Brendon. He leaned in and dropped his voice to whisper. "Looks like you two are going to have fun," he whispered, then ducked his head back into the package. "With raspberries and ribbed latex," he finished when he came back up, eyebrows waggling suggestively. Now it was Brendon's turn to cover his face with his hands.  
  
"I hate you," Brendon muttered.  


"I hate Tobe," Ryan muttered, his face feeling much too hot against his hands. "I can't believe this. You know, perhaps you guys shouldn't come around for the summer anyway. I'll be spending it in prison for... I'm not sure if it will be for murder or castration yet." Finally he lowered his hands slowly, glaring at Jon. "There was a reason not to open that here," he grumbled, reaching across the table. And this time he managed to catch the package, push it closed and put it back under his own chair, which he slid far down on. Disappearing under the table himself didn't sound too bad right then.

Jon shrugged. "I don't see why you're so embarrassed. At least you're going to get some." He looked over at Brendon. "Right?"  
  
"Oh, my God! Jon, stop talking!" Brendon said, rather loudly, and earned a few looks from other students. He whined quietly under his breath and squeezed his eyes shut. "Spencer, please get him to stop talking. I swear, I'm going to kill myself this is so embarrassing." He let his head fall to the table and shook it against the wood, muttering to himself. Spencer chuckled and put his hand over Jon's mouth, quickly snatching it away when Jon licked his palm.  
  
"Ewwww!" Spencer exclaimed, wrinkling his nose.  
  
Despite his lingering embarrassment, Ryan still found himself nearly laughing at the look on Spencer's face. Then he took a deep breath, trying hard to force the blush away. He looked down at his half-full plate, fighting the sudden impulse to reach over and hold Brendon's hand, or pat him, or something to help him calm down. But they were in the cafeteria and he had a feeling it would only serve to make Brendon more embarrassed anyway. Besides, since when was it part of his job to comfort the boy? He looked more intensely at his food only to realize he wasn't exactly hungry anymore. And he definitely wasn't bringing the package to the next class. Nor was he leaving it here for anyone to find. "I'm... uhm, I'm going to head up," he finally declared. "There's still twenty minutes till class."

Brendon quickly pushed his chair back and got up. "Yeah, I'm coming, too." He said, clearing his throat. He looked around, hoping that it didn't look weird that he was leaving with Ryan. He looked down at Spencer, who was wiping his hand repeatedly on his pants, but smiling up at Brendon nonetheless. Brendon smiled back slightly, then turned to Ryan and waited.

"All right," Ryan said, reaching down again for the package and making sure to keep it in a firm grip so that no other curious, annoying little kids could take it from him, but also not close enough to make him too uncomfortable about it. Then he got quickly to his feet and followed Brendon, falling in step with him as they headed back to the dorm hall. He shook his head slightly. "Okay, so I already knew Tobe has no tact, but seriously? That was too much. I'm calling him after class." And he definitely was. Even if it had been a good idea, which it wasn't since it would probably be quite a while before they'd even need something like this, sending it with the regular mail to arrive at lunch in front of everyone. That was just idiotic.

Brendon chuckled quietly and nodded. "Yeah, and tell him that I said to fuck off, will you?" he asked, shaking his head. He didn't talk again until they reached Ryan's room. They entered the room quickly after Ryan had unlocked the door and Brendon took the time to look at the various pictures in Ryan's room. "This him?" he pointed to a picture of Ryan with his family and some other guy, who he guessed was his brother.

"Yeah," Ryan answered upon observing the picture into which both he and Tobias had been photo-shopped. He opened his closet and dumped the package inside without looking through the contents. "He's a good guy. I love him and all. I mean, he is my brother. But he's a little crazy and has absolutely no sense of propriety; I'll be the first person to admit that." Then he turned around to observe the boy for a moment, cocking an eyebrow slightly. "You all right?"

Brendon looked up at Ryan and nodded absently. "Yeah, no, I'm fine. Just... a little bit freaked out. I mean, I wasn't even thinking about that, yet," he chuckled nervously and looked away, picking at the fingers on his right hand with his left. He kept his gaze on his hand, not wanting to look up at Ryan right now.

"Yeah, me either," Ryan concurred. "Well, I guess I may have, in passing. But not as an option. Not for a long time." He took a breath and ceased his beginning rambling. He reached out a hand and placed it gently on Brendon's shoulder, giving a small squeeze. "We're far from ready for  _that_  step, so there's no need to start thinking about it just because of this, okay?" he added, walking just a bit closer.

Brendon chuckled again, though it was a bit strained, and nodded. "'Course." He put his arm around Ryan's waist and pulled the boy even closer, pressing his lips against Ryan's temple. "Anyway, I should probably get my books for class. I'll see you in English, though, right?"

Ryan turned his head quickly and caught Brendon's lips for a brief kiss. "Sure," he answered with a smile. "Have fun, or something."

Brendon nodded, letting his arm slip from around Ryan's waist and grabbing the boy's hand in his instead. He squeezed it gently and smiled before turning and leaving. "See you." He said, before disappearing into the hallway.  
  


***  


  
"So much stuff for one weekend?" Ryan asked as he helped Brendon stuff a large suitcase and a backpack into the backseat of his car. "You don't wash at home, do you?" He pulled his hoodie a little tighter around him, the early February evening feeling just a little colder than usual. And he was happy to finally get a couple of days off. Having some time to himself, getting to write reports without it being the middle of the night. Perhaps he'd even get to read a book or two. Just have some time to actually tend to himself. He wasn't going to miss Brendon. At all. At least he was telling himself that to avoid thinking about the fact that the boy had grown quite a bit on him over the last few weeks and that it may actually feel lonely to just be himself a whole weekend.

Brendon nodded, giving his suitcase one more push before throwing his messenger bag into the backseat with it. He was so not looking forward to getting home. "Uh, no. I just bring extras, in case anything happens, since all of my clothes are at school during the year. I have to be ready for dinner parties or outings with the parents, you know," he explained, shrugging. He took one last look into the car before turning to look at Ryan. "So, I'll see you Sunday? I'll probably be back before dinner." He cleared his throat, looking around to see if anyone was near before leaning closer. "I'd give you a kiss goodbye, but, um. The driver," he said, shifting uneasily and looking back towards the front of the car.

Ryan nodded, a schooled disappointed look crossing over his features. He felt like he'd done this for so long now that even he didn't really know the difference between faux and genuine. "It's okay," he said, though. "Good luck." And then he quickly wrapped his arms around the younger boy, giving him a quick squeeze and pulling away soon enough that it seemed completely platonic. "Can't wait for Sunday," he added with a small smile as he stepped back a little, giving Brendon room to enter the car.

Brendon smiled warmly, mouthing an apology, and winked before he turned to get into the car. He climbed inside, sitting in his usual seat, and leaned forward. "Could you get the door?" he asked, chuckling quietly. He waved as the door closed, then watched Ryan slide from view as the driver pulled away and out of the school parking lot. This was going to be a long weekend.

**Brendon**

"Thanks," Brendon muttered, following the driver up the front steps, looking around at the lush green grass and fragrant flowers covering the front lawn. If he had known they were staying in Grace Cottage, he would have packed less clothes. There were no dinner parties while they stayed here, mainly because it was his mother's domain and she was adamant that it stay hidden from the world. He smiled to himself. He loved staying at his mother's cottage. His mother had told him on numerous occasion the story behind said cottage. How his father had bought it for her and then named it after her. Many of his winters and summers as a child had been spent here. Without knocking, the driver took out a ring of keys from his pocket and used one of them to unlock the heavy, wooden, front door. As soon as they were in the entrance, Brendon was hit with warm air and the smell of pines and sweet spices. Smiling, Brendon pushed past the driver and took off his shoes and jacket, placing them in the closet near the door. Taking a deep breath, he wandered deeper into the cottage, bypassing the grand staircase and heading straight for the sitting room. As he walked along the hallways, the smell of burning wood became more prominent, almost overpowering every other smell. When he peeked into the sitting room, he smiled as he saw his mother sitting in a chair near the fireplace.  
  
"Hello, mother," Brendon said quietly, walking into the room to place a kiss on the woman's cheek. She smiled warmly and stood from her chair, placing her book on the coffee table before bringing him into a hug. When she stepped back, she held him at arm's length and studied him without speaking. Shifting nervously under her gaze, Brendon averted his eyes and only looked back when she sighed happily.  
  
"You're still quite short," she told him, a smile tugging at her lips. Brendon rolled his eyes and tried to move away, but she held on to his arms tightly. "But, of course, still as handsome as you've always been. How's school?" she asked. She rubbed his arms before sitting down in her chair again and motioning for Brendon to sit down.  
  
"School is good," Brendon replied as he sat down in a wing back chair. "We've finished Shakespeare in English and I suspect we will be starting essays soon. Creative Writing is... interesting, to say the least. The journal we're meant to be writing is somewhat of a challenge, but I've been doing very well to date," he shrugged. "The other courses are less interesting, but I'm doing very well in them. Teachers are very happy with how well I'm doing, if their comments on quizzes are anything to go by. All in all, it's wonderful," he finished, smiling widely at her. She smiled back, her face crumpling slightly and making it look like she was about to cry.  
  
"You're growing up so quickly, Brendon," she said, her voice cracking just slightly. Brendon bit his lip, shaking his head, but she cut him off when he was about to say something. "Now, dinner's in a few minutes. Your father would like to talk to you after that, in his study." With that, she wiped her eyes and quickly got up. She kissed his cheek and then quickly left. Brendon shook his head and smiled. Mothers.  
  


|  


  
"You wanted to speak to me?" Brendon asked his father, who was currently sitting at his desk in the private study. Without looking up, his father nodded and, with a wave of his hand, gave Brendon the option to sit down. Walking into the room, Brendon took the chair to the right and sat down in front of his father's desk, waiting patiently for the man to start talking. Honestly, he had no idea what the talk was going to be about. He was doing exceptionally well in school, and he'd done enough interviews to last a year during the Christmas break. Placing both arms on the arm rests, Brendon laced his fingers together and thought of Ryan, smiling slightly. God, he hoped his father hadn't somehow found out about that. How horrible would that be?  
  
"We need to talk about marriage, Brendon." His father's voice cut through his thoughts and Brendon's eyebrows shot up. Before he could reply, his father continued. "As you know, it is tradition for the Prince to get married before he gets the Throne... Some of them had already been married, and others waited for a few days before the Coronation ceremony to get married, making it even more special. Now, it is not a prerequisite, of course, but I do, as your father, expect you to marry before receiving your place on the Throne." His father stared at him, unblinking, as Brendon gaped right back.  
  
"But I- I don't even date, dad!" he exclaimed, before blushing furiously and shaking his head. "Father," he corrected himself before taking a few calming breaths. "I have not met anyone who I could even think of marrying. I am much too busy to be thinking of such inane things." He said, finally, liking the explanation and hoping his father would let it go. Unfortunately, the man wouldn't back down so easily.  
  
"Brendon, I'm sure you could easily meet a respectable woman who suits you. Your school throws co-ed dances, does it not? No matter. The subject is not up for discussion. This summer, once you've finished school, your mother will hold dinners for her friends, many of whom have beautiful, well brought up daughters. I'm giving you options, Brendon, since you don't seem to be able to find someone on your own. You should count yourself lucky that I do not simply arrange your marriage to a girl you have never met. It's in your hands."  
  
With this last sentence, Brendon knew that he'd been dismissed. As he got up, his father told him that they would talk again about it tomorrow. Brendon turned away and sneered before stomping out of the study angrily. He made his way upstairs, ignoring his mother's voice, and shut himself in his bedroom. Throwing himself onto his bed, Brendon shoved his head into his pillow and yelled into it. "I hate you, I hate you, I hate-- this," he said into the pillow, hands clenched into fists at his sides.

  
Brendon awoke on Sunday after having locked himself in his room most of Saturday. He'd only made his presence known to eat something and to talk to his mother about how unfair his father was being. She'd been sympathetic, but wholly agreed with Brendon getting married, reminding him that it might still be a decade before he actually took the Throne. Possibly even more. That had calmed Brendon down some, but he knew that his father would want him to marry as soon as possible, in case something horrible happened and he died earlier than expected. Apart from that talk and pouting all day, Brendon had done nothing exciting. He hadn't even strolled around their back garden, something he loved doing.  
  
Now, as he got ready to go back to school, Brendon thought of Ryan again. The boy obviously didn't deserve to be in a relationship with someone who was meant to be getting married. He deserved someone who he could have a real relationship with and show it to the world. Someone who was, obviously, not Brendon. He said goodbye to his parents, formal to his father and a kiss to the cheek for his mother. Waving one more time, Brendon followed his driver to the car, the man carrying his suitcase, and got into the car, the events of the weekend whirling in his mind.  
  
The ride to school went by fairly quickly, probably because he hadn't been paying attention and was thinking things over too much. He made it up to his dorm quietly, not wanting to talk to anyone, and then locked himself in that room, hoping no one would pay him a visit. He didn't even want to go down for lunch, even though he'd arrived hours earlier than planned.  
  


***

Ryan had spent the weekend, save for Saturday night when Spencer had dragged him out to go with him and Jon to catch the bus and go into town to see some new movie Jon had been overly excited about, in his room. He'd gotten the reports done. He'd gotten some of the pleasure reading he'd been missing done. He'd gotten so much done that by Sunday morning he had nothing left to do except homework that someone at HQ was already taking care of. And he was more bored than he'd ever thought he could get. The weekend of peace and quiet had been what he wanted, right? So why did he feel lonely and bored and frustrated? In the end all he could do was tell himself that he'd become so accustomed to having people around him and following some schedule or another that he didn't really know how to entertain himself anymore. It was a sad thought, but a lot better than the alternative.

Sunday morning he'd woken up at seven and couldn't fall asleep again, and so he forced himself to read another chapter of his book. Then he sent yet another pointless email to his mother and checked his regular email, forwarding all his junk mail to Tobias as a sort of payback for the episode a week and a half earlier. He'd immediately regretted the clearly immature action and had become even more frustrated than he'd been moments earlier, simply by the discovery that his old email didn't have an unsend feature. Then he'd deleted the account. It wasn't as though anybody ever wrote him anyway.

Upon deciding that messing more with his computer would only annoy him further, he took his morning shower and did what he could to make it take as long as possible, including a long, slow wank (which had ended in a cold shower when unbidden images just wouldn't leave his mind alone) and had finally spent too much time on hair and makeup. Then he dressed slowly and had still been down too early for breakfast and church.

He was leaving the auditorium, walking a few paces behind Spencer and Jon until the hall broadened and all three could walk next to each other, inwardly groaning with that annoying boredom that had only become worse by having to sit still through service. The cafeteria was becoming visible at the end of the hall, and he found himself grinning slightly. "Reckon he'll be here yet?" he asked the two others. "He said he'd be back before lunch."

Spencer shrugged, smiling. "Don't know. How about you go check?" he suggested, Jon snorting.

"Yeah, instead of boring us with your intense boredom, you freak. It's like you can't live without the guy, man," Jon said, shoving Ryan's shoulder. Spencer chuckled and nodded, because, hey, it was kind of true. In his eyes, at least, and apparently in Jon's, as well.

"But watch it. He's usually in one of his moods when he comes back from a weekend with his parents. Proceed with caution." Both Spencer and Jon burst out laughing at that little inside joke.  
  
Ryan blushed slightly, but nodded. "Be back in a moment," he declared before taking a turn and heading in a different direction, towards the dorm halls. "I can too!" he yelled over his shoulder before walking on. The halls and stairs and rooms were familiar to him by then, easy to navigate, and for that he was grateful. He'd had enough of getting lost over the first week he'd been there. He absentmindedly climbed a flight of stairs and went down the hall to the right room where he raised a hand to knock.

Brendon groaned loudly. He watched Zach open the door and hoped whoever it was couldn't see him, even though his bed was right in front of the door and could be seen easily. Maybe Zach's body would hide him. He heard Zach say that he hadn't arrived yet and could he take a message? Brendon smiled and shoved his face into his pillow, hoping it was working. If it was Spencer, the boy would have just pushed his way past Zach and stomped his way into the room. Brendon hoped to God it wasn't Spencer.

Ryan looked up at Zach, blinking slightly. He was still wary of the man but had gotten more or less used to him over the last few weeks, even if he still gave him a sense of unease. "Uhm, no," he muttered, glancing past the bodyguard slightly to look at the room beyond. "We were just wondering if he was-" His eyes widened in surprise as he spotted the Brendon-sized lump in the covers, and a large part of him was undeniably happy to see the boy again. Even if he didn't really feel like admitting it. "Back yet," he finished, now looking back at Zach. "Because we've missed him and we'd love it if he were here to join us for lunch." He forced a smile at the large man. "Thanks." And then he turned around and went back towards the cafeteria, knowing that Brendon had gotten the invite, but also that he'd still be able to stay and have his alone time if he preferred.

Zach slammed the door so hard, Brendon jumped about five feet and felt as though the whole room were shaking. He looked up at the bodyguard, eyes wide. "What the hell was that for?!" he spluttered, sitting up in his bed. Zach shrugged and smiled evilly.

"Your friends want to see you, I think," he said, and Brendon scoffed. "Especially that one. Whatever happened with your father, hiding from people is not going to work. Now go to lunch or I'll carry you there," the bodyguard raised an eyebrow and advanced threateningly on Brendon."Fine, fine! God, not that it's any of your business," he grumbled and changed into some sweats and a t-shirt. He was feeling a bit depressed about everything and this attire seemed to help. Well, that's what they said on TV and in magazines. He left the room, pouting the whole way to the cafeteria, and sat down at his usual table without getting any food. "Hey," he said, staring down at the table.  
  
"Hey!" Spencer said, pretending not to notice Brendon's mood. "We're having salad! Caesar salad! Your favorite, right? You should eat." But all he got in response was Brendon shrugging. Oh, well. He'd tried.  
  
At Brendon's arrival, Ryan looked up and flashed a short smile, but it seemed to go completely unnoticed. Brendon wasn't even looking at him. He quickly reminded himself that the others had known Brendon longer and that Brendon was much more likely to seek their comfort if something unpleasant had occurred than Ryan's. He let his eyes dart about the table, unnerved with the quietness that wasn't really familiar amongst the four of them anymore. Then he decided to simply return to his food. If Brendon needed space he wasn't about to push. Better to let the boy come to him.

Most of the meal went by in complete silence, until Jon decided he'd had enough and slammed his hand into the table, making everyone else jump up in their seats and stare at him while he stared back at Brendon. "All right, that's it. Either tell us right now what happened, or go mope somewhere else." He said. Brendon clenched his jaw and his eyes darkened with anger. He looked briefly at Spencer, and could tell the boy wanted to know as well (though he wouldn't have been so mean about it), and sighed.

"Fuck you, Jon," he said, then turned to look at Spencer, ignoring Jon's presence. "My dad wants me to get married," he stated simply, then went back to staring at the table. Spencer's eyes widened and his mouth fell open. He was silent for a few minutes before shaking his head.

"But you don't have to be married to take the Throne!" he said, his voice a loud whisper. Brendon snorted and shook his head.  
  
"Yeah, well, it's a fucking  _tradition_ , and now I have to follow it. End of discussion," he replied. Spencer stared at him, at a loss for words. He wasn't sure what he could even say. 'It's not so bad,' would surely not do.  
  
Ryan looked up immediately, almost feeling like his neck snapped at the sudden movement. He had no idea what to say or do about that. The idea, and especially the fact that Brendon seemed to at least be considering it, was a huge setback to everything. Perhaps even the end of his chance. And then he'd have to go back to playing the friend, perhaps having to stick around for a decade to get information he had otherwise hoped to be able to get in months. It wasn't hard at all to mix stunned and hurt on his own face. "What?" he found himself almost gasping, hands frozen on utensils that had previously been scraping food together on his near-empty plate. "You're  _seventeen_."

Brendon shook his head miserably. He finally looked up and into Ryan's eyes, his eyebrows knit together. "I know. But that doesn't matter... I'm sorry." He sighed heavily and bit his lip, still holding Ryan's gaze. "My parents want me to start dating," he said. "Girls," he added quickly, his voice no higher than a whisper, barely audible.  


Jon, who had been listening in silence, spoke up. "Well, can't you date girls and date Ryan at the same time? I mean, they could be your cover or something, right?" he asked hopefully, smiling at his own idea. Brendon shook his head.

"I'd have to  _marry_  one of them, Jon. Maybe not right now, but..." he trailed off, rolling his eyes. He was so pissed off and confused.  
  
"It's okay," Ryan muttered, voice too soft and a little shaky. "I understand." He didn't know if being defiant and fighting it would've been a better idea, but he'd had next to no time to contemplate or it would have seemed fake either way. At least this way he could keep playing the friend, could hopefully keep doing his job. On the bright side, at least he was saving the rest of his firsts for when they would really matter. Even despite that, the tears came surprisingly easily to his eyes as he slowly pushed his chair back and left, walking back towards the dormitories. It wasn't that he didn't want to be there right then, of course not. It was just for effect and because he suddenly had another billion reports to write.

Spencer bit his lip and watched Ryan leave. He sighed and shook his head. "You should talk to him," he said gently, reaching over and patting Brendon's shoulder. Brendon nodded jerkily and stood, hurrying to catch up with Ryan. When he finally did, they were in the hallway that led to their dorms.  


"Hey," he said quietly, reaching out to touch Ryan's shoulder. He felt like such an asshole, now, on top of everything else.

Ryan almost jumped a couple of feet in the air. He'd been composing the reports in his mind, word for word, and hadn't heard the footfalls of anyone following him. He recognized the voice, though, and, perhaps more vaguely, the feel of the warm weight on his shoulder. He looked back over his shoulder, pleased - where a moment ago he'd been annoyed - that his eyes, and perhaps his cheeks too, still felt a little too wet. "Hey," he returned, voice gravelly. Then he forced a small smile that somehow felt completely wrong on his face and probably looked wrong too. "It's okay," he said again, although he was suddenly uncertain of who the intended recipient of those words was. "You have to do what you have to do, and I can't play by your rules when you play by your father's."

Brendon let his arm drop and he frowned. He saw the tears glistening on Ryan's cheeks and felt his stomach clench. "Can we go to your room, please?" he asked anxiously, taking Ryan's wrist and dragging him along the corridor until they stood in front of the boy's door. "Quickly?" he said, again, sounding rather anxious. He had no desire of being seen by the principal on a stupid camera.

Nodding, Ryan reached into the pocket of his slacks and pulled up a key, more than just a little surprised and confused by the events of the last few seconds. He tried to push the key into the lock with... shaking hands? When had his hands started to shake? He managed on the third try, turning the key in the lock and pushing the door open.

Brendon pushed them both into the room and closed the door before wrapping his arms around Ryan neck and pulling him closer. He kissed Ryan's cheeks repeatedly, his lips wet when he pulled back. "I really am sorry," he whispered before pulling away. He sighed loudly, the air ruffling Ryan's hair slightly, and let his arms drop to his sides. "But... it's not until this summer, right...?"

"Right," Ryan echoed before he suddenly felt a slight glimmer of... something. Hope? "So," he started, biting down on his bottom lip lightly. He couldn't afford to formulate his words wrongly, to let them come out bad in any way or this may end up being his biggest mess-up yet. Including that time at the academy when he'd been ill and had still had to train and had pretty much messed a hundred-thousand dollar manoeuvre up because he hadn't been able to think clearly. "So what are you going to do until then?"

Brendon smiled softly. "Well, I would like to continue how we were. But... if you don't, then that's fine. Because it would end for the summer..." he trailed off and lowered his gaze. He hated that his father had just sprung this on him. And how would he react if Brendon said he was gay? What would happen then? Were people from royal families allowed to be gay? Brendon almost laughed at the last thought. How absurd! He wasn't allowed to be anything he wanted... and he had to marry someone who would make his family, and the country, look good. Brendon bit the inside of his cheek, waiting for Ryan's answer.

Ryan let a smile spread over his face even as something gave a pang inside him. "I do," he muttered, allowing himself to lean forward again a little, leaning his lanky shape lightly against Brendon's more solid chest. Then he chuckled slightly. "And before Jon or Spencer rat me out, which would make it more embarrassing, I've been bored and irritable all weekend. I really missed you."

Brendon did chuckle this time, putting his arm around Ryan's shoulders again. "Missed you, too," he muttered. His father was going to skin him alive. Brendon and nuzzled his nose into Ryan's hair. "Anyway, what the hell am I going to do about this marriage shit? Unless gay marriage suddenly becomes legal and if the fact that I'd be disowned if my father found out weren't true, I have to get married. And I have to go out with a million girls this summer, apparently. It's all planned with my mom's friends..." he made a disgusted sound and pulled Ryan closer. "This is so fucked up," he finally stated.

"Actually," Ryan started, a devious little smile starting to form on his face before he tilted his head slightly and stole a quick peck - just to make the situation look more real. "It isn't that hard. Assuming your father actually wants you to get a good education, what you need to do is get into a university, something prestigious enough to please him, or perhaps even impress him. Then you act as though you have nothing against marriage, just the timing. You tell him, reasonably, making sure to seem as adult and smart and responsible as possible, that you can't be married so young and get a proper education at the same time. Either your studies would be half-arsed or your wife would be neglected. You could even bluff, say that you'd drop out of school and marry. If he has any sense at all, he lets you serve whatever military time you have for family traditions and go through with your education. It's not something that's going to last you your whole life, but it could give you up to five years."

Brendon chuckled. "You're completely insane, you know that?" he teased. "But it doesn't sound like such a horrible idea. My father obviously wants me to go to University... he'd still want me to date and bring girls home, though. And, ugh, I'd probably have to sleep with them," he grimaced, shivering at the thought. Sighing, Brendon pressed his lips to Ryan's hair and inhaled the scent of shampoo and soap. "So, you were bored without me, huh?"

Ryan couldn't help grimacing slightly at the thought of Brendon sleeping with someone else. Not that he really wanted Brendon to sleep with him, or- Why did he even care? That's right, he didn't. "Come on, your father wants you to be the good, proper Catholic boy. He'd probably be proud if you remained a virgin until marriage. That way there isn't as much of a chance of 'Royal bastards' starting to spring up out there. And those, from what I've heard, are always a huge embarrassment. Sometimes they've been enough to ridicule a King's whole rule. In England at least. Just make it seem like you're doing the smart thing, not what you want." And then he gave another small smile, turning his head a little until he was facing Brendon's neck where he left a single, short kiss. "And I was."

Brendon smiled, oddly happy that Ryan had been bored without him. "Well, I thought about you the whole time I was gone. I almost told my father about you, actually, when he said I had to get married. Could you imagine his face?!" he laughed loudly, though a bit nervously. He could, indeed, imagine his father's face. It would probably the face he'd make before promptly throwing Brendon out of the cottage and out of his life. He shuddered.

"I'm not sure I'd want to," Ryan stated, finally wrapping his own arms around Brendon's waist. It felt oddly nice, standing like that, all entwined. Well, he'd taken a psychology class in college, and according to the things he learnt there, it would be down to the fact that he never had a good relationship to his father and was subconsciously looking for closeness, approval and acceptance from another male. Simple as that. He turned his head up to smile at Brendon from his slumped position. "Standing like this is tiring in the long run," he stated. "The couch looks a lot more comfortable."

Brendon chuckled and led them to the couch, plopping down onto it and bringing Ryan down with him. "So, hey, I just thought about something you said," he started, looking down at Ryan with an amused smile. "You know how you said that my father would be proud if I remained a virgin?" he asked, then continued without waiting for a response. If he stopped now his confidence would surely evaporate and leave the stuttering mess he knew was waiting just below the surface. "Does that mean we're not going to do," he paused to clear his throat. "That?" he finally asked meekly and quickly looked away. He just wanted to know for personal reasons. What if he had to prepare for this kind of thing? He just had to know, really. It wasn't a matter of him wanting it or not. Not really.

Ryan forced himself not to gulp visibly and he leaned his head back down on Brendon's shoulder, hiding his wide eyes. "I don't know," he finally said, voice slow, calculated, low. "Depends on whether you'd want to, what you're comfortable with." What those questions entailed to Ryan didn't matter, he told himself. What he had wanted for himself, previously, what he felt and feared, none of that mattered. What mattered was gaining, and keeping, Brendon's trust, doing his job. "I'm not going to push," he added. "And if I ever do anything you aren't completely comfortable with, you say stop and I'll stop." He looked up again, keeping his face and eyes earnest. "I care too much about you to be willing to hurt you over something like that."

Brendon squeezed Ryan's shoulder. "I'm sure it's not all about me, though," he said. "And I'm not a someone you can push around, or anything, so I'm pretty sure I know that you'll stop if I say so," he chuckled, shaking his head. "But, thanks. I kind of care about you, too."

Ryan let out a slight laugh at that, pulling back just enough to really be looking at Brendon. "What I meant is that you shouldn't be afraid of hurting my feelings, or afraid that I'll think you're chicken or whatever if you ever want to back out of anything. I know you could push me off; what I'm afraid of are the times when you could and should but don't." He smiled slightly, reaching out and twining his hand with Brendon's, holding the connected hands up between them before letting them drop onto his thigh, squeezing slightly. "And I know it's about the both of us, but it should be by your pace."

"Okay, I get it," Brendon said quietly, his cheeks reddening slightly. He sighed softly and squeezed Ryan's hand right back, smiling down at their hands. "Thanks," he said again. "Did you have homework to do tonight?" he suddenly asked, looking at Ryan's alarm clock. He should probably go talk to Spencer and Jon sometime soon. And he had a ton of homework to do, since he'd been too busy being angry yesterday to do any of it.  
  
"Already done it," Ryan answered. But he'd have to check his mail soon to see if those longer assignments had been sent back to him. Math and science of any kind had never come easily to him. Now it came, finished, through the email. "You can do yours in here if you want, or I can leave you to it. I have a good book to read anyway."

"Yeah, you're going to be a distraction, so I should probably go," he said, smirking. He leaned in and gave Ryan a kiss, lingering for a few moments before pulling back and licking his lips. "I'll see you at dinner, all right? And, hey, March break is coming up! A week without school, huh?" he winked and opened the door.

Another small fit of laughter escaped Ryan through his lips, and he let the smile remain in place on his face. "I know what you mean," he stated. "Doubt I'd get much reading done either." Then he frowned slightly, thoughtfully. "And I suppose it will. I'm just not sure where to go. It seems so far to go back to England for a week." Then he shrugged dismissively. "I'll figure something out," he decided. And he would. A nice hotel. Some sightseeing, perhaps. Of course that wasn't exactly part of his assignment, and the bureau would probably prefer to have him stay close to Brendon, but honestly, it didn't matter much. He was already weeks ahead of their original plan of expectancies.


	9. Chapter 9

Brendon got out of the limo in front of Shiloh Castle, where they'd decided to spend March Break. It would allow Ryan to do some sight-seeing in Jackson and his parents to officially be introduced to Jon and Ryan. Everything around them, save for the driveway, was covered in lush green grass. The castle itself had blue and white brick walls and huge wooden doors. He smiled up at it, rolled his shoulders back, and walked forward about two steps, then turned towards the car again and watched his friends climb out. He'd never been more nervous about anything in his whole entire life. He watched the driver go to the trunk and start taking out all their suitcases, while someone exited the castle and came to help. "This is weird," Brendon muttered, half hoping his mother would come out and greet him to make everything more comfortable.   
  
Ryan stopped short just outside the limo, looking up with wide eyes at the enormous building in front of him. The copper roof was shining with a dull gleam in the early spring sun, windows glittering beneath it, and everything fitted together perfectly to make it completely picturesque; beautiful. "What's weird?" he asked, having to keep himself nearly forcibly from squeezing or patting some part of Brendon or another to give the boy a little reassurance. It had become that natural over the past few weeks. He couldn't, though, of course. Not with so many people around. Not when his parents could easily be looking out of the windows. He quickly went to the luggage pile and retrieved the bag with his laptop, shouldering it and keeping it close, hopefully without it seeming  _too_  close.

Brendon shrugged, then turned to look at Spencer and Jon. "So?" he said, smiling. "Everything you thought it would be?" he asked. Spencer grinned and shook his head.  
  
"No, it looks much better than in pictures," Spencer admitted, grinning. "Looks much better than what my father ever said, too." He took his suitcase from the driver, fighting with him a bit before he actually had it in hand. Jon took his suitcase as well, when Spencer stared him down long enough, and the driver was left with only Brendon's to take in. They all walked up to the front doors and stepped in as they were pushed open for them. As opposed to the cottage, the castle smelled like a sterile, instead of smelling homey or inviting. Brendon walked in further and looked around before motioning them all to go up the staircase.  
  
"I'll show you guys to your rooms and then we can go get something to eat," he said, then turned to the driver. "Tell the cooks we would like a light snack," he said, then started up the staircase. He turned back to his friends and motioning them forward.

"That sounds great," Ryan stated with a small smile, hoisting his suitcase up in his hand. He was momentarily quite pleased that he hadn't packed too much, because otherwise carrying both computer and suitcase could've turned out to be quite a feat. He might be a better-than-decent shot, but he knew very well he was a little lacking in the muscle department. Shifting his grip a little, he followed Brendon up the wide staircase and through the large front doors, gaping slightly at the room behind. It was large and felt slightly like walking into a museum. Although surveillance cameras were visible here and there, the air and furniture and practically everything oozed of a different time period. It felt almost like stepping into the seventeenth century. Possibly Europe too, but he'd never been so he couldn't say for sure. "Are there cameras in our rooms too?" he asked, nose wrinkling slightly. Hopefully it would seem like no more than distaste at the thought of the surveillance workers seeing him in his birthday suit and thus cover the fact that cameras would make his life really difficult.

Brendon shrugged indifferently, then smirked. "Well, I destroyed the one in my own room... but, yes, I suppose the guest rooms  _would_  all be under surveillance. Why? Is that a problem?" he asked, looking over at Ryan and smirking. He walked down the hallway, passing mirrors and portraits on the wall. He led them to the very end of the hallway before opening a door. "Now, these rooms are big enough for two, but if you all each want your own room, that's fine, too," he said, opening the door to one of the many rooms and stepping aside for all to see. "These last four rooms are all up for grabs... you can each choose the one you like the most. They all have different color themes, and everything may be placed differently, as well." He smiled and stepped back, waiting for his friends to make their move.  
  
Spencer was first, immediately going into the first room Brendon had shown them. It was all forest green with off-white trimmings, much to his pleasure. He smiled and stood in the doorway, watching Jon open the door to all three rooms and then look between them indecisively.  
  
Ryan followed Jon's lead and gave each room a quick look. Unlike the younger male, though, he wasn't looking for colors or cool features or size, but blind angles. His academy training made it easy for him to scan a room and find out every way it was bugged and how to get around it. The second room, he discovered, did have a couple of feet of blind angles, but just as he was about to call it, Jon ran in and threw himself onto the bed. Ryan suppressed a groan and looked between the other two. Both were more than sufficiently wired. "Are there cameras in the bathrooms as well?" he suddenly found himself answering. "Because if there are, you'll have to put up with me smelling for a whole week. I don't want those security guards to..." He trailed off, grimacing and shuddering lightly as he kept glancing between the two rooms that were left.

Brendon scoffed, mildly offended. "Of course not! Why would we want cameras in washrooms?" he asked incredulously, nose wrinkled. He shook his head and shoved Ryan lightly. "Don't be stupid. No one wants to see you naked, you loser," he said, sounding completely serious, and then ruined it by winking. Behind him, Spencer chuckled.

"Apparently he thinks our country is much worse than it actually is..." Spencer mused.  
  
"Oh, I see how it is," Ryan jested, feigning being offended. "I'm ugly now, am I?" He picked his suitcase up again and scanned both rooms once more, his training kicking in to make him choose the most easily defensible one, which seemed to be kept in soft blues and cremes. Not really his first choice in color, but, he mused, probably suiting for Ryan Hastings. He placed the suitcase by the end of the bed to be unpacked later and placed his computer bag on the table before pulling his shoulders up in relief at not having the excess weight on him anymore. Then he quickly pulled his jacket off and put it on the bed before rejoining the others.

"Yes, you're extremely ugly," Brendon replied, rolling his eyes. He rubbed his hands together and exhaled loudly. "All right, let's go down and eat, then we can go to the backyard for a nice stroll," he said, rather loudly. He hoped someone was listening and would report to his parents that they were up to no trouble. He rolled his shoulders back and started downstairs, but Jon placed a hand on his shoulder and held him back.

"Aren't you going to show us your room?" he asked, grinning. Brendon narrowed his eyes, looking from Jon to Spencer, who was grinning. He then looked at Ryan and sighed.

"Fine," he grumbled, and walked to the complete opposite end of the hallway. He extracted a small chain from under his shirt, the one he kept hidden at all times, and undid the clasp at the back of his neck. Taking the old-fashioned key at the end of it, he unlocked the door and then pushed it open. Walking in, they seemed to enter just a normal sitting room. Beyond the chairs and television, though, were French doors. Brendon walked in and to the doors, taking out another key from a pocket in his shirt, and unlocked those doors. He pushed them open to reveal a darkly lit room that seemed to belong in an Edgar Allan Poe story, rather than in a beautiful and colourful castle. He ushered them inside and stood by the door uneasily. He didn't like sharing his room with others, no matter who they were, but he figured that, if anyone, his best friends deserved to see it.  
  
Ryan looked around, deep in concentration for a few moments as he mentally stored away location and details and other bits of information for later use. Or for a report. Who knew, maybe they could use it. He determinedly ignored the pang from his conscience, the something inside him screaming that he was already abusing too much trust and that something as private as a bedroom should be kept to those in whom it was confided. He took a deep breath, studiously telling himself that it wasn't his fault Brendon was too trusting and gave away information to the wrong people. He was doing his job. It wasn't his fault these stupid kid were falling for it. Somehow, though, those lies were beginning to feel shallow, even to himself. "It's nice," he stated honestly, finally managing to see the room as a person, not a machine or whatever else it was the bureau had made him into. "I like it," he added, once again honestly. This, rather than the pale blues, was something he definitely liked. The color scheme wasn't too different from his own room back in New York although the rather new apartment didn't have the same Gothic feel to it as you could get in an old building, a castle even. "And thanks, I don't think you're absolutely stunning either."

Spencer chuckled and shook his head. "What are you, some kind of Vampire?" he asked, sounding just a little too much like Jon. Brendon glared at him, his upper lip lifting into a sneer, but before he could reply, Spencer cut him off. "Don't worry, it's not a bad thing... I just never expected your room to be like this. It's just a little weird, you know?" he said, looking around one more time before glancing back at Brendon, both eyebrows raised.

Brendon shifted uneasily and shrugged. "Yeah, I guess it is... but my room has been this way for the longest time. I like it better. I spend most of my time in here, when I'm at the castle," he glanced around at his computer desk, book shelves and bed, all made of wood so dark it was black. The wood had special carvings in it that Brendon liked but didn't understand. His bed, a four-poster king-sized, was covered in a deep red duvet and, yeah, Brendon had to admit that it didn't really match his style. He sighed and looked down at his shoes, then back up at Spencer. "Yeah, I guess it's a little weird," he said with a chuckle, shaking his head.

Shrugging, Ryan looked around once again, everything being stored automatically inside his mind. "It's more relaxing than bright colors would've been," he stated. "But without being totally glum. I'd imagine reflection is easier here." He smiled slightly. "Style aside, it suits you in some odd way."

Brendon smiled at him, a little self-conscious, then pulled everyone out of the room. "Okay, that's enough. We're going down to the kitchen, now, and no one will ever be allowed to set foot in here again," he said, grinning as he led them out of his room. He started down the staircase again and made his way to the kitchen. It took a while, since the kitchen was basically on the other side of the castle, but when they finally arrived, the small, wooden table was filled with fruit and bread and cheese. Brendon snatched up a strawberry and ate it quickly, smiling widely.

Ryan picked up a piece of bread, buttered it quickly and put cheese on, popping a couple of grapes as he went. He took a bite and looked up with a small smile. "Definitely better than school food," he stated, eyebrow slightly cocked while he pulled on his t-shirt a little. The fact that the fabric rode up the moment he moved his arms just a little still felt quite uncomfortable even though he was starting to get used to it. He was pretty sure by then that Brendon didn't really care what he wore either way, but it would seem a little too strange to change styles in the middle of everything. "What is the program for the next week then?"

Brendon shrugged and swallowed what he had in his mouth. He picked up a piece of bread and buttered it as he spoke. "All I ever do is attend dinner parties and mope around my room. I'm not quite sure  _what_  we could do. Of course, tonight you'll all be meeting my father, and I'll probably have to teach you all the proper etiquette so that he doesn't completely hate you..." he trailed off, taking a bite out of his bread and sighing. He chewed quickly before swallowing and finishing his sentence. "I'm sure you will all be fine. All you have to remember is 'work your way in' and it'll be easy," he finished and looked around the table. Jon was frowning at him, still chewing on something that looked much too big to fit in his mouth, and Spencer was smiling at him oddly. "What?"

Spencer smiled at him again and shook his head, "you're just making the castle sound so boring," he explained, lifting an eyebrow. Brendon shrugged.

"Oh, come on. It can't be boring at all!" Jon exclaimed. "I mean, there must be a million things we can do! Don't you have any hot servants?" he waggled his eyebrows. Brendon scrunched his nose and shook his head.  
  
"They're all pretty old... there's a brothel down the street," he said, frowning slightly. Jon chuckled and shook his head, but stored the information for possible use at a later time.  
  
Ryan felt his eyebrows jump up his forehead in shock. In most areas his own country was much more free than Beauregia, but prostitution seemed to be a little upside down. It was completely illegal back home. Not to say that it never happened. But a completely non-covert brothel just down the street from an official state building was just a little beyond his comprehension. "The most pathetic thing about prostitution is the men who are desperate enough to pay just to get some," he finally stated, making sure to keep the disgust out of his voice. "The sad thing is capturing people in an environment where they have to sell themselves to stay alive." Then he bit his own lip sharply, looking away a little, and hoped he hadn't just offended everyone within a thousand-mile radius. Again.

Brendon snorted. "A lot of the women and men who work in Brothels actually want to be there," he said, eyebrows raised. "They are much safer than the streets, provide a roof, bed and food. They're not... exactly legal, but much better than the alternative. Prostitution is the world's oldest job, you know that? It's always going to be there... and it could be worse. They don't hire children, the women aren't treated badly, the clients must abide by many rules... It's definitely not a good thing, but it's not the worst," he finished, flushing slightly. He'd researched Brothels and prostitution a while ago, during the summer. He'd even watched many documentaries on it, and knew many facts. He didn't like the idea, but it didn't completely repulse him anymore. He looked straight at Ryan, waiting for his reply.

"I just don't see why-" Ryan stopped, taking a deep breath to calm himself down. "I don't see why anyone would want to be on either side of a deal like that. A good social security system should be able to at least make it less appealing." He took another deep breath, shaking his head slightly. "I guess what really gets to me is how it cheapens everything. How can it be special to have sex with that one person if you can just head to the other side of town - or down the street - and get it for money? Perhaps I'm too... fucking romantic or something for my own good, but sex should never be just about getting off. It should be about trust, and about the feelings between two people, not just something that's for sale to the highest bidder. This way, in a sense, everything about couples in sexual relationships loses meaning somehow." He shook his head once again and took a large bite of his bread to keep his own mouth shut before he really said something he'd regret later. Suddenly, though, a thought occurred to him. If his assignment led to him having sex with Brendon, how was he any better? Wouldn't that just make him a whore too? From what he'd heard, many prostitutes even refused to kiss their clients to distance it, and that was definitely more than he had been doing. At least with regular prostitutes, the clients knew what they were doing. There was no trust to be broken. So didn't that just make him even worse? He forcibly pushed the thoughts away, taking another bite and waiting for an answer.

Jon stepped in after a few moments in silence, cutting Brendon off. "You're right, it cheapens sex. It really, really does. Which is why a lot of people say that sex is not an act of love, and it's not a way to prove you love someone, which is absolutely true. Maybe you are a romantic and you believe sex should be about trust and two people coming together and sharing their feelings and, I don't know, a soul connection? I think you're wrong. It might have been that way a long, long time ago, but it's not anymore. Yes, it is a big part of any relationship, but that's only because humans have made it so important. I mean, aren't we the only living beings on Earth who tie sex to love? Animals do it to produce offspring... not to prove their love," he shrugged. "Sex isn't about love."

Spencer gasped, looking at Jon, mortified. "Jon! How can you say that!? God, that is so horrible to hear. If you really love someone, then sex can be about love. It's not something you should give away and it's not about getting off. Or, it shouldn't be. I know that it's like that for a lot of people... but there are also a lot of people who still believe it's an important aspect in relationships. You're so cynical..." he trailed off sadly, only to have Jon shrug again. Brendon was looking between his friends, unwilling to say anything.

"Perhaps it really ought to be one of the things that separate us from animals then," Ryan muttered, still fighting to get around the gloomy thoughts looming at the front of his mind. "Perhaps it makes me an odd one out, but I know-" Or Tobias knew, and had told him. "-that unless you're some kind of unfeeling, selfish... whatever, you do give something of yourself away through sex. I mean, it is the closest you can physically get to another person. And there aren't a lot of things that are more painful than finding out too late that you've given part of yourself away to the wrong person. I'm not saying that you should only ever have it with one person. I just mean that it feels like a waste if it isn't at least someone you care about and trust and want to get closer to. I mean, everyone who's ever been in a relationship would probably agree that a breakup hurts more if you've actually gone all the way."

Brendon kept his mouth shut at this because, how could he know? Spencer wasn't talking and neither was Jon, who looked mildly guilty. Finally, Spencer nodded slowly. "It's true," he said, turning to Jon and looking at him sadly. "Sure, people might say that it doesn't mean much, but they know that, deep down, it does."

Jon looked away, and ate some more so that he wouldn't have to talk. Spencer smiled softly at him and patted his hand. "Well, then!" Brendon exclaimed. "This was a lovely conversation! Shall we go out to the garden?"

"Yeah," Ryan agreed, biting his lip slightly as a pensive look spread over his face. He was relieved the conversation was over, but at the same time he didn't want everyone to stop talking. He didn't want to have to face all the thoughts and feelings lurking in his mind right then. He hated the way they made him feel; worthless and guilty and like utter filth. He wasn't a bad guy, really, he was just doing his job. But he couldn't help but wonder how many people who were actually honest enough to call themselves prostitutes had used that line to reassure themselves. Finally he turned to Spencer with a small smile. "Hey, you've known Brendon at least since you guys started at Francis', and your father works here, so how come you've never seen it before?"

Spencer shrugged. "I was never invited, for one thing. The castle really doesn't mean much to Brendon, and my father didn't really want me lurking around. I have seen Grace Cottage, though, which is named after Brendon's mother, since it was a gift to her from the King. Brendon loves it there more than anywhere," he smiled wistfully, remembering the cozy cottage he'd seen many times when he'd been much younger.

"Sounds nice," Ryan stated, nodding along slightly as he turned to look over the garden. "The yard almost looks English," he observed with a slight chuckle,  looking over the perfectly trimmed bushes and straight hedges and artfully situated and kept flowerbeds. He couldn't help but also pick up on the barbed wire surrounding the area and the small watchtowers with armed guards, not to mention the suited men subtly following them at a respectful distance, and he had to forcibly hold back a slight shudder. He didn't like the security at all, but right now he was - hopefully - on their good side and would have to calm down for things to stay that way.

Brendon nodded absently, smiling when Spencer remembered Grace Cottage. They hadn't been there together in far too long, but Brendon's father was rather reluctant to allow Brendon's friends into that private place. Teenagers had more of a chance of betraying him than anyone else, supposedly. Brendon didn't believe that for a minute. He looked around and saw Jon standing a few feet away, petting a big, grey cat. Brendon grinned, walking back the few steps and picking the cat up, much to Jon's dismay. "Sapphire knows she shouldn't be outside," he said, pretending to scold the cat. It mewled in his arms, but otherwise looked rather comfortable. Jon looked at him quizzically. Brendon cleared his throat, shifting uneasily. "One of my mother's cats... she has about ten, but they usually stay in the west wing where her rooms are... Don't know how this one got out," he shrugged, narrowing his eyes when Jon laughed at him, shaking his head.  
  
"Jeez, Brendon. Mommy's boy, much?" he asked, smirking.  
  
"There are worse things to be," Ryan said with a slight shrug before Brendon could retaliate and another argument could begin. "It's pretty," he added, looking at the cat with a small smile. But still, while he could appreciate the elegance and beauty in felines from afar, he'd never really been comfortable getting close to them. He had always been more of a dog person. He remembered that his biggest regret when moving away from his childhood home was the fact that he'd had to give his dog to the neighbours. Things had been too rocky between his parents for them to take care of it. "My neighbour had one back before I went away for school. It always got into fights with my dog. That thing was vicious; my dog was perpetually afraid of it."

Brendon snorted, shaking his head. "These cats are anything but vicious. I mean, they're my mother's; they're sneaky and stubborn, but really gentle," he said, stroking the cat's head with his free hand. When he looked up, he noticed that Jon was suppressing his laughter and glared at him. "Spencer, please punch Jon."

Before Jon could process what had been said, he was being punched- quite hard- by Spencer. He stumbled back, mouth open in shock, then glared and set his jaw. "You're mean," he pouted, folding his arms across his chest. Spencer chuckled and shook his head.

"Should we bring him back?" Spencer asked, looking back at Brendon, who bit his lip and shrugged.  
  
"I guess it depends on whether your mother would miss him or not," Ryan stated, looking around the garden. As uncomfortable he was with all the security out here, he was even more so with the guards and the omnipresent cameras inside. "It's really nice out here."

"If my mom knows he's missing, then she's probably out of her mind trying to find him. They're kind of like her only companions sometimes," he scrunched his nose as he admitted that and looked back down at the cat. "Right, Sapphire? You're probably driving her insane. Bad kitty," he admonished, shaking his head at it as if disappointed. Jon snorted, reaching out to scratch behind the cat's ears and smiled when it purred happily. "But you guys can stay out here while I go, if you want," Brendon finally said, finding this course of action to be the best one.

"Okay," Ryan agreed, nodding slowly and biting his lip just a little. He wasn't really willing to admit it, but he knew he wouldn't feel nearly as safe without Brendon around. Probably because the guards were likely to obey the orders of their Prince, and at the moment Ryan was quite confident Brendon wouldn't let them do anything to him. Unless the truth got out, of course, but so far it hadn't even though he constantly felt as though it was written in thick, fat marker on his face, so he had to believe it wouldn't happen just then either. "I guess we'll just be... here?"

Spencer nodded, flashing Brendon a smile. "Yeah, we'll be fine. I know it'll probably take a while to walk wherever you're going since this place is huge, but you'll be back within minutes. It's really no big deal," he smiled again, reassuringly, and motioned for Brendon to leave. Brendon looked at him, then at Ryan. He smiled softly at the boy before turning to Jon and sneering.

"Don't do anything stupid," he said, then turned and left. Spencer chuckled and then turned back to Ryan.

"The security bothering you?" he asked conversationally, sitting down on a nearby concrete bench.  
  
Ryan felt momentarily even more uncomfortable. He was being too obvious. But then, wouldn't a lot of people be uncomfortable with all the security? He hoped so. He shrugged slightly, forcing himself to meet Spencer's eyes even though he, as always, felt as though the much younger male could look straight through him. "I guess it's a combination of being born slightly paranoid and naturally a bit private," he finally stated, hoping the excuses would hold up. "In my father's business it's a lot of sending company agents after each other to steal new developments and inventions and shit and we practically got the paranoia thing drilled into us since before we could even understand what the secrets we couldn't tell were all about," he added. Hopefully that made it give a little more meaning.

Spencer shrugged, glancing at the closest man to them. "They kind of made me uneasy in the beginning, as well," he admitted. "But they're just doing their jobs, you know? And they're here to protect Brendon and his family. Not from us, but from people on the outside, I assure you. The only way you'd have to worry is if you were going to hurt Brendon in any way," he ended, a warning flashing in his light blue eyes. He didn't have any reason to think Ryan would hurt Brendon, but it was always good to know anything could happen. He hoped against everything that it would all be okay.

"Yeah," Ryan muttered, nodding as he looked down at his shoes. Hopefully that would just be taken as him being uncomfortable and embarrassed with his admissions of being wary of the security. In reality he just felt that Spencer had read him a little too well and was trying to keep the boy from seeing more, however it was he managed to do that. He didn't  _want_  to hurt Brendon, not personally. He had absolutely nothing against the boy and couldn't really pin the way the country was being run on him, but he still had a job to do and one that would probably end up hurting Brendon whether he wanted it or not. But there was a reason these people were called bodyguards, right? They were to keep the royal family from bodily harm. Perhaps he should be more worried about Spencer and Jon, the closest things to heart guards Brendon had.

Spencer smiled softly and reached up to squeeze Ryan's shoulder. "Don't worry, I don't really think you'd hurt Brendon, but..." he trailed off, sighing, then continued. "You never know." He tried to make his smile reassuring, but he'd probably just managed scaring Ryan away completely. Great. He really didn't want an angry Brendon after him. "So," he started, looking around. "Should we visit Jackson and risk Brendon being pounced by... all kinds of people... or do we stay in all week?"

"We're definitely going into downtown Jackson," Jon said firmly, finally reminding Spencer and Ryan that he was still there. He seemed to be quieting down a bit, and Spencer didn't know what to think of it.

Ryan nodded slightly, wrapping his arms around his own chest before deciding that no, he was an adult, he wasn't supposed to resort to something so childish, and especially so obvious. Instead he stuck his hands into the pockets of his slacks, grateful that the palace at least gave him an excuse to wear clothes that felt a bit more normal to him. "Jackson sounds good," he agreed. "I mean, I've never seen it before, so..." He shrugged, letting his voice trail off as he looked around him, silently observing the garden. If this didn't get better, if, a day later, he still felt like he was about to crack under the pressure of being at the palace, he'd get a hotel room or something. Or go back to the school and hope they'd let him into his room. The bureau would understand and would definitely prefer distance to exposure, and he could fake sick towards the others or something. He hoped it wouldn't get that bad, that he'd get used to it or something, but right then he really just wanted to get away. From the guards, from Spencer and Jon, even from Brendon and the constant need to perform.

Spencer smiled warmly, then glanced at Jon. "Hey, Jon, can I talk to you alone for a minute?" he asked, keeping his smile as innocent as possible. When Jon allowed himself to be dragged away, Spencer leaned forward and spoke to him in a whispered voice. "What's going on?" he asked, trying not to sound suspicious or accusing.

"What do you mean?" Jon asked, head cocked to the side. Spencer rolled his eyes and lifted an eyebrow. Jon sighed heavily, rolling his eyes before answering properly. "Look, I know I keep teasing Ryan about his family and shit, but I'm not as stupid as I seem. I'm not about to make his family like this whole suspicious thing- especially when it's not- and get him in trouble with those fucking bodyguards. Those guys are probably measuring our every action in regards to Brendon's safety. I'm not going to give them something else to worry about. It's not like I know anything of importance, anyway, and it wouldn't be right to lead on that I do," he looked back towards Ryan, then shrugged. "Look at him," he said, smirking. "I hardly think he's any threat to Brendon's safety."

Spencer stared at Jon for a long time before nodding once and accepting the answer. "I see what you mean," he said, trailing off. "And, yeah, he doesn't look like someone who could cause much trouble," he shrugged. "But you never know, just like I said," he said pointedly before walking back over to where Ryan was standing. "Sorry, just wanted to ask Jon a personal question," he explained, hoping that since it was 'personal' Ryan wouldn't ask any questions.  
  
Ryan nodded, but he could feel his heart thudding quickly in his chest. They had been talking about him, anyone with half a brain would've been able to discern that. And there was the chance they'd been comparing notes and suspicions, that Spencer had briefed Jon on his thoughts or something and they were a moment away from starting to question him or figuring everything out or something. Perhaps he was exaggerating, but he really did not want to be captured and rot in a prison or die or whatever else and he couldn't help but be scared out of his mind, and it took all he had in him not to show the fear on his face. He knew he was pale, though, and he felt oddly faint and was about five seconds away from declaring himself ill and retreating to his room where another camera would be awaiting his return and... since when  _was_  he actually paranoid? "Okay," he muttered, walking the few paces to the bench Spencer had previously occupied and sitting down heavily, letting out a slight, barely audible, sigh.

Before Spencer even had the time to look worried, Brendon was walking towards them, the smile on his face faltering when he noticed Ryan's pallor. "What did they say?!" he demanded from Ryan, glaring at Spencer and Jon, but letting his gaze rest on Jon for considerably longer. He seemed quite angry over, Spencer thought, nothing. Ryan was probably just feeling slightly overwhelmed by all the security. Spencer had felt the same way at one time. He tried to say as much, but was quieted with another glare from Brendon.

"Nothing," Ryan answered, giving a small smile. "I'm just not feeling that well. Bit of a stomach ache. I tend to get that way after longer drives, I just sort of hoped that since I hadn't felt it yet, it might not kick in." He shrugged slightly, keeping his shoulders up a little. Again he knew it was a bit of a childish defence stance, but it made him feel slightly better all the same and he allowed himself to stay that way for a few seconds before pulling his shoulders back down. "Just give it a couple of hours and I'll be all good again," he added, forcing another smile and hoping it didn't come out too much like a grimace.

Brendon looked at Ryan worriedly, then relented. "All right," he said, still frowning slightly. "How about we just take time to unpack and have alone time in our rooms, then? It's no later than five. We can do whatever you guys want after that," he said, nodding. Spencer grinned at him, chuckling slightly.

"Sounds good."  


***

Ryan was on his bed, simply looking up at the ceiling, or so it would seem to the casual observer. In fact his eyes were still slowly darting around, looking for blind angles. There were next to none, and he was already quite clear on the fact that he, however risky it was, didn't really have much of a choice but to leave his small handgun in the bag instead of hiding it somewhere less obvious, and that he couldn't do much but surf and do homework on his laptop. He was definitely regretting having deleted his own email, because it would seem odd if he got online a lot and never checked his email, but the one he was using, well, there might definitely be some incriminating subject titles. Plus, the thing with the codes and the encryption might be a hint too. Any reports he made would have to be made in as few words as possible and sent with the highest level of encryption his (quite advanced, but not nearly as much as the special devices) cell phone could manage. It was all more than a little risky, and he didn't like it much, but it didn't seem like there was much he could do about it.

Deciding he should probably let HQ know the status quo as soon as possible, he pulled his cellphone out of his pocket and shuffled about on his bed in a way he determined looked natural until the back of the phone along with his body should keep the screen from view, he started typing away as quickly as the device could manage, explaining the situation and how he was handling it in as few words as possible before sending the message and deleting it from his outbox. Then he snapped the phone shut with a small sigh and put it back in his pocket, rolling over onto his side. He was still feeling a little queasy, and not at all up to meeting the others again. A nap, though, sounded good.

***

Brendon, instead of going to his room right away, had instead decided to pay his mother a visit. He found her in one of the libraries, curled up on an armchair and looking much younger than she normally did. Brendon smiled when he saw her, thinking that, for all that she was, she didn't look like a Queen right now; just a normal mother, enjoying a bit of catching up with her reading. Walking as quietly as he could, he came up behind her, gently placing his hands on her small shoulders. Gasping a bit, his mother quickly closed her book and twisted her upper body to look up at her son. "Brendon!" she exclaimed, one delicate hand at her throat. Brendon grinned and squeezed her shoulders slightly before letting his hands slip away and sitting in the armchair next to hers.

"Hi," he let his grin die down a bit, but it didn't quite disappear, dipping his head slightly in greeting. His mother, along with his close friends on occasion, was the only person to see him relax, let his professional mask slip from time to time. He only let himself because he knew that she would not accept being spoken to by another politician. It was something she didn't like in his father, though she understood why he did it. "My friends are just getting settled. I let them get used to their rooms and the castle.. it can be overwhelming, I'm sure you'd agree." His mother smiled at this and nodded. "We might go out after supper, if that's acceptable? We certainly won't be out late, but my friends want to see the town. Ryan, especially, given that he is new to the country.." trailing off, Brendon looked away from his mother's probing gaze. He had never been able to lie to her. He'd always been the child who told his mother everything, after all. Keeping this secret from her broke his heart, but he knew it was essential to his whole life and, most importantly, his reign.

"I'm sure that will be fine," his mother said, though she looked slightly suspicious. Smiling widely, Brendon thanked her before kissing her powdery cheek and exiting the big room. Once he was upstairs again, he went to his own room, but not without casting a longing glance to Ryan's. He didn't want to go into Ryan's room, with all its cameras, but he kind of hoped the boy would come see him, whether it took him hours or minutes. In his own room, he plopped down onto his bed and opened a book he was meant to read for school, planning on catching up. A worker would come fetch them for dinner.

***

When Ryan awoke it was only to realise that he'd hardly slept for more than twenty minutes, and that he was already bored to his skin. It bothered him, in a way, how much he seemed to depend on company to make the hands on the clock move these days. He'd always been a loner, the type who was naturally not only capable of, but good at entertaining himself without a whole lot of outside stimuli. Lately it seemed he had to be around one of the three others, preferably Brendon, to be capable of keeping the boredom at bay. And not only was he getting bored, but the thoughts from before seemed to be coming back, pressing in on him and stifling him, and in the silence of the empty room there was only so much he could do to silence the voices of his own mind. He briefly considered taking a walk, but remembered that walks had always had the sometimes unfortunate side effect of making his thoughts that much clearer and by definition louder.

In the end he decided to simply take a look at what the others were doing, and he got back up, pulled on his shoes and left the room, casting his bag a nervous look as he went. He hoped to God that none of the thugs that loomed around this place tended to take it upon themselves to go through visitors' luggage. Pushing the thought away, he made his way down to Spencer's room and knocked softly. When he got no answer he tested the handle and upon finding it unlocked, pushing it gently open to peer inside. Spencer seemed to have gotten the same idea he had and was sleeping peacefully, the covers tugged all the way up to his nose and his hair falling into eyes that, for once, weren't nearly perceptive and alert, but rather closed and relaxed.

He walked back into the hallway, closing the door after him as quietly as he could. He briefly considered looking in on Jon, but even though his relationship with Jon had improved a lot and certainly become a lot less strained, he was still far from the point of choosing to spend an uncertain amount of time alone with the boy. He and Jon were fine as long as one or both of the others were there to act as a buffer, but they hadn't yet reached the point of being friends independently of the others.

Eventually he settled on finding Brendon in the hopes that spending time with the younger male wouldn't simply make his doubts about what his assignment made him shout more loudly. At least he usually wasn't nearly as bored around the prince as he lately was on his own and somehow, in spite of the lies and the charade, there was just something about Brendon that made him feel oddly at ease.

The walk seemed shorter when he made it on his own rather than with the three younger boys, but after sets of stairs and long, winding corridors, he finally recognised the door and, taking a deep breath, knocked firmly, knowing that if Brendon was all the way in his bedroom, the soft knocks he'd attempted on Spencer's door wouldn't register.

***

Brendon, who had unfortunately fallen asleep while reading the, rather boring, school book, was roused suddenly by a firm knock on his door. He knew that it wasn't a worker or bodyguard, for they knocked very meekly, or incredibly loudly, respectively. Setting the book aside, he made his way to the door, straightening his clothes on the way; it wouldn't do to look dishevelled at any moment. He opened the door slowly, peeking out to make sure before opening it and nodding to Ryan. "Hi," he said, making sure to keep his voice friendly, but fairly neutral. He stepped aside to allow Ryan entrance, and then quickly closed the door behind the boy.

"Stupid guards," he mumbled, referring to the one who'd been standing outside his room, hidden almost completely by a statue that his mother had bought in Europe. Sighing heavily, he turned to Ryan and smiled softly. "Hey," he said coyly, chuckling a bit. He gestured towards the small sitting room before leading the way and sitting down on the right side of the small couch. He realized only now that he'd left the doors to his room open, and this bothered him a lot more than it probably should. It was Ryan, after all, but...

Sighing, he quickly got up and closed the doors, taking the key from his shirt pocket and locking the door. Once he heard the click of the lock, it felt as though a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, as odd as it seemed to admit. He turned back to Ryan and shrugged sheepishly, before sitting down once again. "Got lonely without me, did you?" he asked, smiling again. His behaviour, now, away from the guards and the cameras, was much more like his normal behaviour; the one his father and country never got to see.

"Something like that," Ryan answered with a wry smile, watching as Brendon crossed the room once more and sat down next to him. He looked into the other boy's face for a moment, biting his lip. Brendon looked tired; almost the same kind of tired he had seemed after the weekend spent with his parents, but a slightly different variant. He reached out and grabbed the prince's hand in his own, lacing their fingers and squeezing slightly. "You know," he muttered. "I got here, and saw all the cameras and thought about how much _I_  hate being watched. I didn't even realise... This is pretty tough for you, isn't it?

Shrugging uncomfortably, Brendon looked away for a moment. "It just gets annoying," he said, then silently berated himself for sounding so childish. It was, of course, annoying, but these people were there to make sure he was safe, that his life wasn't in danger. He had absolutely no right to resent them in any way. Frowning slightly, Brendon shook his head at himself. "But they're there for my own protection, and I really shouldn't be complaining. If it weren't for them..." trailed off, sighing. Instead he looked back at Ryan and smiled lopsidedly, then looked down at their entangled fingers. "Doesn't matter," he murmured. "Are you going to be able to sleep with the cameras around? I've heard it's pretty disconcerting."

Giving a small laugh, Ryan simply shrugged. "I think I'll probably forget about it when I do sleep," he stated. "Or get used to the thought, I don't know. Otherwise I'll just have to wrestle the mattress out of the bed and into the bathtub. Although I think that mattress is heavier than I am. It's massive, I tell you." He gave another little laugh, shaking his head slightly before he leaned in and pressed a brief kiss against Brendon's cheek. It was odd how reflexive small gestures like that were becoming. And perhaps even more disconcerting was just how natural they felt. "It's not that much of a problem," he finally lied. "What matters is that you're here and I'm here and we'll have fun with Spencer and Jon and make the best out of the time we get. Cameras are nothing against that." He winked and placed his cheek on Brendon's shoulder, letting out a deep breath. Over the last weeks he'd found out that apparently things like this that gave Brendon some sort of feeling of being the stronger one, the protector, whatever, put him more at ease. Made him forget about his inexperience or something. Ryan didn't really know, could only guess and do his best to read the tensing and relaxing of the younger boy's shoulders.

Brendon snaked his arms around Ryan's shoulders, though he kept his eyes on the door, just in case... but, no. No one was allowed into his room without his expressed permission, or if there was a dire emergency.  He let out a breath, ruffling Ryan's hair and then chuckled when it tickled his chin. "Alright, as long as you're not completely freaked out. And I'm sure we're going to have a lot of fun downtown, though it's more for show than anything else. There are a few discos," he scrunched up his nose at this, "and bars and such, but unless you want to go shopping, we're going to be doing a lot of sight-seeing," he paused for a moment, eyebrows furrowing. "Not to mention the bodyguards that will have to accompany us. That is, if my father doesn't tell us to stay in. He does that sometimes... he'll come back from a meeting or something and ask me to stay in the castle or the school for a few days." Looking down, he ran his free hand in Ryan's hair, feeling how soft it was, and grinned despite himself. "It's kind of odd, knowing that there are people who want to harm you-- kill you," he finished casually.

"I think that's the way it's always been," Ryan stated softly. "Figuratively speaking, if you put every person on the Earth up on a long row, those whose heads stick up the farthest are the ones it's most tempting to cut. And then of course there are politics." He rolled his eyes slightly. "I used to plan on studying law, but then I realised that I was going to encounter enough politics just from inheriting the family company and I didn't want more, so I'm probably going to get a bachelor in business and take psychology or something as a minor. Politics are tiring, but they're also the reason for most things going bad in the world. If someone is trying to kill you, then suffice to say that it has to be some big-shot politician who's behind it." He shook his head slightly again before leaning it back against Brendon's firm shoulder. "That didn't have a lot to do with anything," he said. "Sorry. I guess I just can't see it from either side. I don't understand what it must be like to know that in some way you are constantly in danger, but neither can I understand anyone wanting to kill you." He wasn't even going to mention harming. He didn't want to harm Brendon, never had. He had absolutely nothing against the other young man. But he also knew that the politicians who dictated  _his_  moves made it impossible not to do so, at least in some small way. "Suffice to say that if you spend too much time thinking about it, it will drive you crazy." He smiled slightly, a snicker teasing in his nose. "You should probably see about finding a distraction."

Brendon made a sound in agreement. "You're right, of course. Politics are disturbingly exhausting. And thinking about it does drive me crazy sometimes, but I try not to do it. Easier said than done, of course, what with bodyguards shadowing my every move. But I've gotten pretty used to it. Well-- kind of, any way," he chuckled, then looked down at the boy in his arms again. Brushing Ryan's hair back from his forehead, he grinned. "Is that what you are? A distraction?" asked, eyes bright with amusement. "Because if you are, you're not doing a very good job at the moment... in fact, I think a different tactic might work better. If you are a distraction, that is." Brendon blushed a bit, then quickly willed it away. Really, now! He was seventeen years old. It wouldn't do to be caught blushing as much as he'd been doing these past few days. It was completely out of character.

The snicker finally came out full force for a few moments before Ryan managed to force it down, craning his neck and pressing his lips against Brendon's. It was becoming easier, more natural, by now. Perhaps not least because he wasn't full of nerve-wracking doubts about his own adequacy or how to do it right anymore. It was actually... nice, in a way. Although, really, that didn't matter. Didn't really have an impact on anything at all. He pushed away his ever-intrusive thoughts and reached up a hand to cup Brendon's cheek as their lips started to move slowly against each other. The angle was awkward, though, and the strain in Ryan's neck forced him to pull away after another few seconds. "Just... a sec," he muttered with a small... was that a giggle? No, a laugh, most definitely so. He pulled up his legs and rose up on his knees before leaning in again. The angle was still not the best, but definitely better than before, and as their lips realigned, Brendon's hand immediately tangled in his hair, and a slick tongue started probing carefully at the seams of Ryan's mouth. The elder of the two opened up immediately, and Ryan couldn't help a small moan rumbling in his chest as he sucked Brendon's tongue inside. Damn, this wasn't supposed to affect him like this.

Brendon chuckled softly when Ryan had to rearrange his position, then quickly pushed his lips against Ryan's own soft ones. Leaning forward, he shivered when Ryan moaned, panting through his nose and squeezing his eyes shut. God, this felt good. He slid his hands through Ryan's hair, then down to his neck, pulling him forward, though no urging was needed. He pulled away when he needed air, gasped in a lungful, and then smashed his mouth back onto Ryan's. The tongue tangled with his was slick and warm. He had thought, only a few weeks ago, that this would gross him out. Instead, he revelled in it. Pushing himself up, Brendon carefully manoeuvred their bodies until he was half-laying on top of Ryan, his hands now flat on the other boy's chest. He could feel warm skin through the shirt Ryan was wearing, could feel the other boy's nipples hardening beneath his palms. Brendon pulled back with a soft gasp, kissing Ryan's chin, the corner of his mouth, before raising his head to peer at the other boy. He was quite sure that his whole face was red by the way his skin almost burned, but it certainly wasn't from embarrassment. Biting his lip, Brendon continued breathing loudly through his nose, hoping that Ryan didn't think him some sort of-- tease, for having stopped.

Taking a few deep breaths, Ryan managed to calm his racing heart even as he lifted his hands, letting one rest on the back of Brendon's neck, the other caressing his cheek as a soft smile spread over his face. His lips felt swollen, face flushed and hair mussed, but for some reason he didn't mind. Probably because he merely mirrored his counterpart on those counts. Lying on his back on the couch, which he suddenly wasn't even sure how it had happened in the first place, made him feel oddly exposed, and Brendon's hands felt heavier on his chest than they rightfully should, and so warm. For some reason, though, he still didn't mind, just had an insane urge to either laugh or pull the younger boy back down. Slowly, he carded his fingers through the dark, lush thickness of Brendon's hair, revelling in the softness, trying to distract himself from the sudden realisation of an incessant throbbing below his waist that was definitely adding slight embarrassment as a cause to the pink he knew must be tingeing his cheeks. He pulled the younger boy gently down far enough to press a small kiss against his forehead before releasing him, looking up at those big, brown eyes above him. He was definitely not in any hurry to pull Brendon's body down enough to feel the swelling, nor have him look down. Not only was it embarrassing, he also didn't want to scare the prince off, which was still a recurring fear. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Brendon nodded, then quickly cleared his throat of the gravely sound of his voice. "I mean, yeah," he chuckled, not really knowing why. It wasn't a particularly funny moment, but the laugh had escaped without his consent. He stayed silent for a few seconds that seemed to drag on, willing himself not to look down the length of his body (or Ryan's). He was hoping that the other boy had been affected in the same way, but he didn't want to bring attention to the fact that he was, quite obviously, aroused. Drawing in a shaky breath, Brendon smiled down at Ryan. "I just think that... maybe it's not very wise to be doing-- this. In the castle, I mean," he glanced up at the door, then back down at Ryan. "Just makes me feel a little uneasy..." he trailed off, shrugging uncomfortably from his position. He moved one hand to lean on the couch near Ryan's head, and then moved the other to cup Ryan's cheek. He kissed him once, just a soft press of his lips, then pulled back and grinned. "This feels ridiculously sappy," he stated, chuckling once again.

"I guess you could say that," Ryan concurred with a dry laugh, smiling slightly. "And yeah, I understand. Definitely less nerve-wracking back at school." He slowly pulled himself out from under Brendon, suppressing the urge to reach down and readjust himself. At least he wasn't wearing the ridiculously small jeans he would've been at school. The castle was good for  _some_  things. "I wouldn't be at all surprised if it were nearly dinnertime anyway," he added. "Someone will come get us in a moment." The last was mostly speculated, since he didn't exactly know the normal schedule of things around here, but it seemed viable, and for some reason he'd needed to remind himself.

Brendon nodded, pulling farther away from Ryan. Sitting up on the couch, he looked towards the doors once again. "Well, shall we go bug Spencer and Jon, then?" he asked, grinning. He was sure that his friends had had enough of the alone time. Or, at least, Jon probably had. He was never one to like the time spent with only himself as company. Actually, if Brendon were to guess, he'd say that Jon had probably already gone to bother Spencer by now. He wouldn't be at all surprised if it were the case. Taking Ryan's hand, he pulled the boy up off the couch and lead the way to the door. Before opening it, he kissed the boy softly once more and smiled. Sighing, he slowly opened his bedroom door and let his hand slip away from Ryan's as he exited the room.

They made their way rather quickly to Spencer's room, in time to see Jon knocking on the other's door. Hearing them approach, Jon turned around, lifting one eyebrow. "Well, well, well," he said, smirking. Brendon rolled his eyes, mouthing for him to shut up. Snickering, Jon turned back to knock harder on Spencer's door. It was answered a few seconds later, Spencer looking dishevelled and not at all his usual well-dressed self. Jon grinned widely at the sight. "You look hilarious," he stated, trying to smooth down Spencer's hair, which looked very much the bird's nest. Brendon chuckled as well and pushed them both into Spencer's room, motioning for Ryan to come along.

"Alright, Spencer. Brush that hair and then we'll go down to dinner. Someone will probably come get us soon enough."


	10. Chapter 10

They ended up being asked to stay in for the night, although with the promise that as long as they brought sufficient security and stayed on the nicer parts of town, sightseeing was in the program for the next day. With it being an unusually warm evening for the season, the four boys had decided that fresh air and fewer security cameras sounded like a treat and retreated to the garden where waiters set them up in a pavilion with refreshments and the bodyguards stayed far enough away to be unobtrusive. Out of hearing range, so long as they didn't raise their voices, but well within sight.

Jon had been rambling away about something inane, but had broken off a few seconds ago, leaving the four of them in comfortable silence to sip their lemonade and nip at their fruits and chocolates as darkness began to fall. "It really is nice out here," Ryan finally stated when the silence started to feel a little oppressive. It was odd. He had never been the type to need talk or noise around him to be comfortable, but here, in this role, he needed it. Not only did silence leave him too vulnerable to his own thoughts, but he also seemed to get nervous when it was silent for too long. Especially with the too-thoughtful looks Spencer had been giving an abundance of lately. With a conversation going, even if he was heading it, somehow it still felt like he was under less scrutiny. When there was no response beyond nods and relaxed hums, Ryan took a deep gulp of the lemonade, thinking hard for a moment to pick out a subject. "Okay," he said after a moment. "Something fun... state a random fact about yourself that none of the others know about, how about that?"

Jon, who had suddenly gotten rather pale, stuffed a piece of fruit into his mouth so that he wouldn't have to answer right away. Of course, since Spencer and Brendon were both nodding and chewing their lips in deep thought, it didn't matter how long he took to chew and swallow; he was still the only one who looked like he had an answer. Clearing his throat, Jon sat forward and leaned his elbows on the table. "Alright," he said, rather quietly, and kept his eyes firmly locked with Spencer's. "I'm just saying this because you guys always want to know more about my parents and shit, so listen up." Jon paused, considering what he was about to say, and then pressed forward. "Well, I haven't lived with-- or even heard of-- my parents for years. I don't even remember them very well. I've lived with my grandparents for most of my life." The silence that followed made him smile. "It's not a very big deal," he shrugged.  
  
Spencer, rather than make Jon feel worse-- if he did feel bad about not knowing his parents at all-- jumped in. "Well, umm... I've seen Jon naked!" he announced, grinning at Jon's gasp and Brendon and Ryan's laughter. He chuckled a bit himself, patting Jon's arm and glad to see that some of the tension had dissolved. "But seriously, uh... I don't really have many secrets except that... I never really wanted to follow in my father's footsteps. I mean, I would do anything for Brendon, and I will join his council if he ever asked me, but it was never my first career choice." He bit his lip, almost afraid to see Brendon's reaction to the news. When he heard his best friend's voice, though, he was relieved that he didn't sound angry.  
  
"I think you should do whatever you choose, Spencer," Brendon said, smiling. "We're pathetic, you know," he said, smirking, now. "Not telling each other these things. Really, now. We've known each other for far too long to be keeping secrets." Of course, in saying this, Brendon was being more than a tad hypocritical. He looked at Ryan and raised an eyebrow. "What about you?" he asked, trying to get out of telling them anything-- or at least have time to think of something unimportant.  


And suddenly Ryan had to mentally slap himself. How could he have thrown a challenge like that out without preparing for it to come back and bite him in the ass? He bit his lip, thinking hard. He didn't want it to be a lie for some reason. That would just feel pretty much completely wrong. But that left him with the challenge of finding something from his own life that sounded like it might be true for Ryan Hastings as well. Which meant something of no consequence. He searched his memory for a few moments before stumbling across something that made him wince and nearly laugh out loud at the same time. "Okay... less sentimentality, more fun," he stated with a lopsided grin. "Hmm, well, back home, when I was young, the summer before I turned eight, I think, I spent a lot of time at my neighbours'. They had two daughters, one was my age and my best friend and another thing that made it attractive was the fact that while my parents never seemed to really be around, their mum was always there and really doted on us.

"One day, she had guests over and wanted us out of her hair, so she asked Vanessa, who was the older sister, to take Virginia and me out for a bit. Vanessa was quite a bit older than us and had just got her driver's licence, so she was actually pretty eager to take us for a ride, world-class show off that she was. She took us down to this little kiosk by the beach which we really loved because they had great ice cream, and she bought us an ice each. A popsicle, really, except they were enormous. Eight inches long and pretty wide from what I remember. Anyway, she was in a stage where she was probably even more into boys than was wise, and it somehow didn't occur to her that one, Virginia and I were seven and two, that I was a boy. So, she told us that she'd teach us how to make blokes pine, and then she took her popsicle and managed to get two thirds of it in her mouth, down her throat, whatever. Virginia wanted to imitate the stunt, and gagged a few inches in. I started laughing pretty hysterically, so she got angry and told me to do it myself if I thought it was so easy. So I did. And got it stuck in my throat. And nearly choked on it before Vanessa managed to pull it out for me. She called me a tramp, I thought it was a compliment because it was my Disney phase and  _Lady and the Tramp_  was a favourite of mine. What this amounts to is the fact that I was apparently born without a gag reflex."

Ryan laughed slightly, shaking his head at what a stupid kid he had been. "The story isn't over yet, though," he continued. "After Virginia and I got over the scare, we decided that hey, this was actually pretty neat, so we decided to play circus for our parents. And you know indulgent parents... they showed up and set themselves up to be bored out of their minds, but this ended up anything but boring. After clowning around for a while, we got to the main act, which was sable swallowing. We didn't have a sable, so I'd nicked one of the large meat knives from the kitchen, and I managed to get it down before our parents had time to stop us. Didn't get the angle right, though, and I cut up my throat and nearly lost my tongue, was expressed to the emergency room and stayed in the hospital for days. It took ages before I could swallow or even speak or eat solids again, so I was quite compliant when my mum forbade me to put anything in my throat that wasn't edible." He rolled his eyes slightly, shrugging. "Best I could find in the memory archives."

By the time Ryan finished his story, the three other boys were laughing so hard their faces were completely red. Jon got over it first, though. "Well, at least we know that you'll be able to plsh bendog--" the end of his sentence was muffled, however, by Spencer slapping a hand over his mouth and scowling, though he was still shaking with laughter. Brendon had enough decency to glare at Jon, though he was blushing now and it wasn't completely because he'd been laughing too much and needed oxygen. Clearing his throat, he sat up straight in his chair and, after giving Jon another glare, spoke.

"Well, that has to be the funniest story I've heard in a long time," he announced, finally giving in and grinning. He shot a glance towards the bodyguards outside before continuing. "I really don't think I have any childhood memories that are funny enough to be recounted-- or even funny at all, really. As for secrets..." he trailed off, taking a deep breath. He was quiet for a few moments before brightening. "Oh, I bet you didn't know that my parents had arranged a marriage contract with a wealthy family when I was born. My mother was against the idea, but my father thought it would be a splendid. The girl in question I don't really remember, but I do remember the reason it was aborted," he smirked at the memory. "Alright, well, the contract had been drawn up and all that rot, but it hadn't been signed yet. The girl's parents wanted us to meet, and so my father acquiesced. We were about five at the time, if any of you were wondering. We had their family over for dinner, the adults chatted about inane things while the girl and I snuck glances at each other, not fully comprehending what was going on. Anyhow, after dinner we were allowed to go to my room, where she proceeded to touch all of my toys and books without my consent. Of course, this made my little self extremely angry and something had to be done. When she picked up one of my favourite books, it was the last straw. I remember yanking the book from between her hands and then slapping her fingers while saying, "do not touch the prince's things." Of course this made her upset and she cried and ran from my room. Her parents were not happy with my behaviour, though they were, of course, still willing to marry her off because I was a prince. I might be getting ready to marry today if the girl's father hadn't laughingly told me that I would soon have to share all of my worldly belongings with them." He paused, eyebrows furrowing slightly. "You can imagine what my father thought about that; Royalty does not share. He's always been rather arrogant-- or proud, as he would call it-- and he cancelled the contract right away, much to the family's dismay..." trailing off, Brendon took the time to breathe a bit. "Well, it all comes down to the fact that I could be married this very moment, if I hadn't been a brat and my father too incorrigible to change his ways."  


Ryan felt a laugh bubbling in his throat and shook his head slightly as he calmed down. "Don't ever change," he finally found himself saying, only realizing after the fact that those words were exiting his mouth. He felt a weak blush start up on his face and quickly forced it down. Perhaps telling an honest story hadn't been his best idea. Ryan Ross and Ryan Hastings were two different people, and when he was playing at being Hastings, he should keep Ross out of it or the charade would become that much more difficult to go through with. "I do bet, though, that she's to this day regretting her grabby hands. And with good reason."  
  
Brendon chuckled, along with Spencer and Jon. "That poor girl," Spencer said, shaking his head despite of the grin on his face. "Imagine knowing you were supposed to marry a prince, Brendon of all people, only to have it snatched away? She must feel horrible," he concluded, receiving a glare from Brendon.  
  
"Do shut your mouth, Mr Smith," Brendon replied imperiously. He snatched up a piece of watermelon and stuffed it into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. "It'd be horrible if I were in an arranged marriage, though," he said quietly, glancing at Ryan for a split second. "Anyway, what else are we going to do? It's getting rather dark out, so maybe we could go inside. I'm sure my mother would like to meet all of you, if you'd like." He looked at Spencer, who nodded and smiled widely, then Jon who was looking suspiciously thoughtful. Brendon turned back to Ryan, awaiting his answer.  
  
Ryan nodded slowly, biting the inside of his lip. Really, though, he wasn't sure how good the idea was. There was absolutely nothing to gain from the meeting, and a lot to lose if she was a bit smarter than the school boys. And there weren't a lot of people more tenacious than a mother who decided something was bad for her child. He couldn't help but shudder at the memory of his mother, before the divorce, going down to chew his father's head off every time Ryan seemed the least bit subdued. Somehow she had managed to pick up on George Ross the second's habits of putting his son down at every opportunity long before Ryan himself had realized that fathers weren't supposed to act like that. "It is getting a bit chilly, yes," he finally said in a manner of agreement.  
  
Brendon's smile was bright and completely unrestrained. As soon as he stood, the guards came closer. He rolled his eyes, but instead of commenting, he lead the way into the house. Followed closely by Spencer, Jon, Ryan and a few big men, Brendon made his way to the library his mother had been occupying earlier today, hoping to find her once again. Indeed, she was sitting in the same armchair, this time with a shawl covering her shoulders, and though most of the lights in the room had been dimmed, one lamp was lit right by her chair, setting her in a warm, yellow glow. She looked up when the four boys entered, the guards staying by the door.  
  
"Brendon, darling, have you finally come to introduce your friends?" she smiled, winking at Spencer, who smiled back rather shyly. "Hello, Spencer. I've known you for quite some time, of course," she said, inclining her head. She set down the book she'd been reading after saving her page with a silk bookmark and sat up in her armchair. "Well, sit down, sit down," she said, gesturing to the chairs nearest hers. Brendon quickly found his own seat, watching as his friends did the same. "Spencer, how is your father? Boyd has no doubt seen him at the most recent of his meetings, but I've not had the chance to speak with him in months."  
  
Spencer smiled at the woman, getting used to her gentle manners once again. "He's perfectly fine, Madame. Still in good health, though my mother is trying to get him eating healthy foods instead of the apparent garbage they serve in restaurants." He smiled at the woman's tinkling laughter.  
  
"And who have we here?" Grace Beauregard asked, her eyes landing on Ryan. She'd never seen him before, but she had a fair idea of who he might be.  
  
"Ryan Hastings," Ryan answered, feeling a strange urge to bow and kiss the queen's hand or something like that. At least stand. But from the way he understood the setting, it was more of meeting a friend's mother than the queen on the country. "I'm very pleased to finally meet you, madame," he added. "Brendon always speaks so well of you." And immediately he felt a bit like a dweeb, but he pushed away the fact that he was more than a little uncomfortable with the whole situation and managed to break a small, hopefully polite, smile. "It's beautiful around here," he stated before clamping his mouth shut, determined not to spew anymore inane compliments. It wouldn't really help his situation to make everyone else uncomfortable as well. "Thank you very much for having me," he finally said before taking a deep breath and leaning back in the chair, signalling that he was now definitely going to stop talking.  


  
Brendon, who'd been suppressing a chuckle, gave Ryan a sympathetic glance before looking back to his mother. "Oh, he does, does he?" she asked, smiling softly. "He's not embarrassed by his old mother yet?" she teased, winking at her son. Brendon flushed, mumbling a soft 'of course not' only to have his mother laugh softly again. "Well, thank you, Ryan Hastings, I'm glad you like the castle. And we are of course very happy to have you here." She turned to Jon, a smile playing on her thin lips. "And this is the infamous Jon Walker, is it not? Now, Brendon doesn't tell me much about his friends, but I've heard that you quite like teasing Brendon." Jon had the decency to blush at this. "Oh, don't worry. I'm sure he deserves it sometimes," Grace said quickly, smiling lovingly at her son despite her words. Jon hesitated, then grinned.  
  
"Yes. It's very good to meet you, Mrs Beauregard," he said, though his voice wavered a touch. Finally, Brendon cut in to make sure his friends didn't feel too much pressure to fill in the silence that would be sure to follow.  
  
"Do you have any idea why we weren't permitted to go out tonight?" he asked his mother. Restrictions were usually a touchy subject with Brendon, and his mother usually told him things that his father never would. He liked the straight answers she gave him, as opposed to beating around the bush.  
  
"I only know that he's been in a very important conference most of the day," she sighed, waving him off with her hand. "Something about DURA and where everyone stands, but Brendon, you know that when he says these things, it is only for your protection. Bad things have happened in the past, to far less important people, and we cannot run that risk. He would also like you to attend the next conference, so that you may become aware of what is going on around you," the last sentence was said rather like an order. His mother wanted him implicated in his country's runnings as much as his father did, after all. Brendon simply sighed and nodded.  
  
"Of course, mother." He looked uneasily at Spencer, then smiled softly at Ryan, hoping to put the boy at ease if he was feeling any discomfort. But now he didn't know what to say next. He loved spending time with his mother, but there wasn't much he could talk about with his friends around. And he didn't want to make them feel put out.  


Ryan had felt his ears perk up at the mention of his own country, not to mention conferences and standings, and did his very best not to let his sudden interest and curiosity show. After all, Ryan Hastings didn't much care for politics. He was idealistic and knew how he thought a good society was, but couldn't be bothered with the games and power struggles and endless discussions it would take to realize his ideas. "Hopefully the situation won't change too much," he finally said with a wry smile. "Or my mum will cross the pond to drag me home by my ear." He rolled his eyes. "It's true too," he added, feeling the need to lighten the statement with a bit of a joke. "Back in elementary school she heard that two boys in my form fought a lot and tended to gather the other boys around them, leading to quite massive fights. She took me out of the school immediately, didn't seem to realise I have the brains to keep my nose clean." Then he shook his head slowly. "Sorry, I'm rambling," he apologized. "I tend to either clam up or speak  _too_  much around people I haven't met before and I know it can become a bother, but I hope you'll excuse it."

Grace chuckled softly, peering at Ryan with interest. "We mothers don't like our children getting into mischief. If we see something that might become a problem, it's directly into protection mode we go," she paused, looking at the grandfather clock in the corner of the room. "Now, I'm sure you all do not want to spend the rest of your evening talking to an old woman such as myself. Off you go, and be sure to have some fun."

Brendon immediately protested. "You are most certainly not an old lady," he said, frowning at his mother and shaking his head. Sighing, he pushed himself off the armchair before swooping down and kissing her cheek. His mother simply chuckled and squeezed his shoulder for a second. Spencer and Jon both took turns to kiss Grace's left hand, right on her knuckles. Jon blushed slightly, but otherwise they both looked completely normal in doing so. Smiling softly, Brendon grew a tad nervous. He didn't want Ryan to feel obligated to do the same, it wasn't a rule of some sort, but most people had a small gesture like this when they left the Queen's presence; simply to show their respect.  
  
Ryan may have had the Hastings persona, but unlike Hastings, he wasn't raised in upper-class England, he didn't have a lot of manners except knowing how and why one should address the bureau director differently from a direct superior. Sure, his mother had told him not to speak with food in his mouth, but his fathers drunken words, food in mouth, had usually drowned out his mother's reprimands. Nonetheless, he did have somewhat of an innate sense of propriety, and mimicking was almost always the best way to go, so, hoping he wasn't making some extreme faux pas, he imitated Jon and Spencer, bowing his head slightly in order to kiss the queen's hands, sending a small smile and following the others out. At least they weren't looking at him weirdly, so he hoped he hadn't done anything wrong. He refrained from heaving a breath of relief and instead gave the others a smile. "Now what?"

***  


  
"As horrible as it sounds, it's good to be back at school," Brendon declared. He and Ryan were in his room, Zach having just left them alone once he'd made certain that everything in the room was fine. Brendon was sitting at his desk chair, swivelling around a little, his feet planted on the desk itself. "Did you have a fun time?" he asked, feeling just a tad self-conscious, though the thought was ridiculous. The time at the castle had gone rather smoothly, after all. The only down-side being that Brendon hadn't gotten to see his father, but this didn't surprise him very much. They had visited downtown Jackson as promised, surrounded by guards. The only annoying part of the week had been the staring he'd had to endure. Of course, people knew enough not to scream or do anything else embarrassing, but that didn't stop them from looking and whispering.  
  
They had only arrived at the school an hour and a half ago, going their separate ways to unpack and such before Brendon had gone knocking on Ryan's door and inviting him back to his room. He was getting attached to the boy, whether he wanted it or not, and he knew he was setting himself up for a lot of hurt, but he couldn't find the energy to care right now, no matter how much he tried to talk himself out of feeling too much for Ryan. Sighing, he pushed the thoughts away and looked back at Ryan, waiting for a response.  
  
"I did," Ryan answered with a small smile. "But as you said, it's nice to be back." He leaned back in the couch stretching slightly even as he tried to keep a posture that would prevent his shirt from riding up too much. He gave a groan of contentment as his back popped and closed his eyes for a moment, more comfortable than he'd been all week. "Nice not to be on candid camera and you know, as crazy and cheesy as it sounds, I missed you. Well, not you, you were around most the time after all, but... I don't know. Us. Being able to speak freely, being close." He felt a blush permeate his face, pulling his arms back down. "You know," he finally concluded, chuckling slightly. "Or you don't know and I'm being stupid, whichever."

Brendon chuckled, letting his feet fall to the floor and manoeuvred his way closer to Ryan, while still sitting in the rolling chair. He leaned forward and kissed Ryan softly. "Yeah, I understand," he said once he had pulled away. "I'm glad you had fun, though. And maybe someday I can meet your family, eh? Isn't it some big step in relationships? Or so I've heard..." he trailed off, smirking slightly and stealing a few kisses. "I think my mom liked you," he murmured between the light kisses. "And I think it was really funny the way you rambled and complimented," he chuckled. He knew for a fact that his mother had liked Ryan, and had been delightfully amused by his ramblings.  


"I'm glad she did," Ryan stated, chuckling dryly. "And glad I could be of some amusement. And remember that I already invited you guys to come visit in the summer. All you have to do is set a date and I'll get my Dad to book the plane tickets." A slight pang went through him at promising vacations that would never happen, but really, that was one of the smallest parts of all this and it was stupid of him to let it hit him so close to home. Work. That was all it was. He just had to remind himself often enough and he'd start remembering it again. He reached out and grabbed Brendon's shoulders, pulling him closer until their knees bumped before moving a hand to the back of the younger male's neck, pulling his face down while he himself leaned forward until their lips connected again. He kept the kiss simplistic and soft, lips on lips without any real opening of their mouths, and letting it last for only a few minutes before pulling back, pressing his forehead against Brendon's as he gave a small smile. "That, I have definitely missed," he stated with a small sigh. Hopefully that was what he was supposed to say when they'd both been too paranoid to act as more than friends since the snogging session that first afternoon. A few stolen kisses here and there, barely more than pecks and few enough to count on one hand... He figured that definitely warranted a comment like that. Because, really, what was there to miss? Shoving away his thoughts before they could start contradicting each other as they seemed to do so often lately, he leaned in and connected their mouths again. 

Groaning, Brendon pressed against Ryan before pulling away to seat himself on the couch and pull the boy into his lap. The position was much more comfortable than nearly falling off a chair in his need to kiss the other boy. Placing both of his hands at the small of Ryan's back, he leaned forward once again, his lips moving against Ryan's as he made almost-inaudible sounds that would have embarrassed him had he been in a clear state of mind. As it was, he simply was happy that they were able to kiss again, whenever they wanted. Or, almost whenever. He obviously wouldn't be necking with the boy in the halls or anything, but this was probably better. Pulling away for air, Brendon took a chance and attached his mouth to Ryan's neck, alternating between running his tongue along the smooth skin and sucking briefly. He hoped that it felt as good as he thought it would, as he had never done it before, but somehow it felt completely natural. His hands traveled lightly up Ryan's back to clutch the boy's hair briefly, and then traveled back down. Pulling back, his lips swollen and wet, Brendon looked up at Ryan, aware that his eyes were darkened with pleasure. "God," he panted, tried to catch his breath. Before long, though, he was kissing Ryan again. It was definitely something he was getting far too comfortable with, though he didn't think he had any complaints about that fact.  


Ryan was definitely panting harder than he usually did from kissing. His neck was tingling and the blood seemed to be rushing through his veins in a much elevated pace. And he felt almost in a state of frenzy, his hands clutching Brendon's shoulders as he kissed back almost desperately, both their mouths slipping open almost simultaneously and their tongue tangling together. A small moaned vibrated in his throat, and when Brendon started to suck on his tongue, he got the strange sensation that the slick muscle must have a direct nerve-connection to his cock, since said appendage gave a jerk and all his blood suddenly seemed to be rushing downwards. For a moment he was horribly embarrassed and seriously considered pulling away since their position didn't exactly leave much discretion about reactions like those, but when the realization that he wasn't alone in bodily responses he decided to leave well enough alone and ignore it for now. Breath, though was becoming an issue, and he pulled back from the kiss, heaving in thick mouthfuls of air before he lowered his face into Brendon's neck, breathing in his scent before starting kissing and nuzzling. His first impulse had been to suck or even bite, but both instances would leave unfortunate marks and the latter would probably scare the prince off. It was getting harder by the second, the sensation of soft skin beneath his lips and nose and tongue not helping matters, but he couldn't afford to lose his head.

  
Brendon was definitely hard, which was something he realized only suddenly when his hips jerked and came in contact with Ryan's. Pulling away from the kiss almost violently, he panted. "Fuck," he bit out, exhaling in a shaky laugh. "Sorry," he muttered, blushing, though it didn't make a difference since he was already quite flushed. Did he want to go further? Looking up at Ryan, part of him knew damn well that he did want to go farther, but then a voice-- which sounded a lot like his father-- would chide him for acting so wanton and vulnerable. He adjusted his position a bit, groaning when a wave of arousal hit him again, and kissed Ryan's neck once before burying his face in his hair and closing his eyes tightly. "Do you.. um. D'you want to-- to continue?" he asked, feeling inexplicably nervous and shy. He hoped Ryan didn't notice.  
  
Winding his arms around Brendon's neck, Ryan took another deep breath and tried to think. His mind was a mess of contradictions. The purely physical part of him was screaming hell yes, but his mind was waging a small battle with itself. If they continued, it would be the first time anything like that ever happened to him with another person, and it would be nothing like he'd imagined it. But he had a job, had a duty, and a step further physically could mean a step closer to success. And then there was the small voice in the back of his head that was asking whether this was what he wanted for Brendon, whether Brendon deserved for something like this to happen with someone who would ultimately betray him. Ryan fought hard to keep that voice away. He wasn't supposed to care about Brendon, to be concerned about his feelings, nor was he really supposed to be concerned with his own. This job was bigger than him, bigger than either of them, and now was not the time to develop a conscience. But his mind wouldn't be silenced. "I said we'd go at your pace," he finally got out, his voice a lot throatier than he would've thought. "We won't go further than you're comfortable with, so that's the real question- do  _you_  want to continue?" That seemed to ease his conscience just a little. He was tired of decisions and didn't want to be the one making this one. If Brendon decided to stop, then it was for the best because not doing so would've created a barrier between them later anyway. If Brendon wanted to continue... Ryan couldn't be held accountable for other people's gullibility. At least he should hope his treacherous mind would agree to that.  
  
"God, you know I do," he murmured, kissing Ryan's neck again before sighing into it. "I just..." he blushed, unable to continue. His body, of course, was perfectly willing to go on without his consent and he flexed his hips, shuddering when he came into direct contact with Ryan's. "God, I can practically hear my father telling me to stop this right away," he said, his voice carrying a slight whine. He tilted his head up to stare at the ceiling, sighing. Beyond the lust and arousal, he knew that, if anything, he was glad that he was able to explore this with Ryan. He didn't feel quite ready, but how long did he really have with Ryan? If he was lucky, a few more years, at least. But if his father decided he wanted Brendon married as soon as possible, then he only had a matter of months. Biting his lip, Brendon suddenly cupped Ryan's face with both hands and kissed him roughly, grinding his hips into the boy on top of him. They'd been together long enough, now, that he should feel comfortable with this. After all, it wasn't like they were actually having sex just yet. He could deal with this, he told himself, the voice in his head quite firm to override lingering doubt. They were just getting off, after all.  
  
Ryan was unable to hold back a groan at the feeling when their groins rubbed together, even as he gave a short chuckle at Brendon's words. He didn't even want to think about what  _his_  father would say, wasn't sure if it would be something completely degrading and contemptuous or maybe even something about taking one for the team. In any case, he was certain he wouldn't like it. It definitely felt like Brendon had made his choice, though, and as the younger boy's hips rolled off again, Ryan leaned in once more, latching his lips back onto Brendon's as he quit holding back and ground down, feeling a slight shudder go through his body at the sensation as his eyes slipped closed. As he ground down again and Brendon's throaty groan vibrated in his mouth, though, he got a sudden impulse. He couldn't even tell if it was because he wanted Brendon to be as comfortable with this as possible out of concern or tactical reasons, but surrendering control would probably be the best answer in both instances, and so he tugged on Brendon and readjusted his own position enough that they reached a horizontal position, and a bit more jostling later the younger boy was nestled between his thighs and Ryan found himself gasping at the intense sensations, slight embarrassment at the vulnerability he was pushing on himself mingling with the arousal colouring his cheeks as he raised his legs and locked them around Brendon's waist, another series of small sounds leaving his mouth as the shifting of their groans sent another array of sparks through his body.  


  
Brendon quite liked the new position. He could feel the outline of Ryan's cock against his, and it gave him a little thrill when he moaned breathlessly. He was rutting against Ryan almost desperately now, and though he would probably feel embarrassed afterwards, he knew he was getting close, and fast. He was a teenage boy, after all. Pulling away from the kiss, Brendon closed his eyes tightly and bit his lip, making breathless little noises in the back of his throat. He placed his elbows on the couch on either side of Ryan's face, so that their noses almost bumped, so close were they to one another. "I--" he started, only to immediately cut himself off and press his lips together. Distantly, he wondered how good it would feel without all these clothes separating them, if it felt this fantastic  _with_  the clothes on. Brendon threw his head back and arched his body as much as Ryan's legs around his waist would allow him, and shuddered with a groan. His body jerked a few times before he collapsed boneless against the boy beneath him. Panting, Brendon lifted his head to kiss Ryan again, since he'd obviously been neglecting the other boy. Once he was breathing normally- and thinking- again, he blushed. "Um..." he said, chuckling nervously. He really hoped he'd done this right. It would be highly discomforting if he had not. But he'd feel like a fool for asking, so instead he settled on kissing Ryan again.   
  
Oh yes, that was definitely another disadvantage of being a teenager that Ryan had definitely forgotten about. His mind only lingered on that thought for a split second, though, and then it was back to being some rumpled mess. It was all he could do to keep from whining in frustration, but he managed and settled on responding to the kiss instead. Where the movements of Brendon's lips had become lax and slow, Ryan responded with an almost mindless desperation, and he found himself even forgetting the slightly mortifying fact that his hips were still jerking reflexively even though his partner had already finished. He groaned into the kiss, feeling a little dizzy from how amazing the friction still felt even though his too-tight jeans were stifling. His right hand was itching to reach down and finish it, but he restrained himself, burying the offending appendage in Brendon's hair instead. The movements of his hips were becoming quicker, harder, a bit more desperate now that the younger male wasn't really pushing back against him anymore, but it still felt good, and he felt himself coming closer to the precipice, and instead of holding back and making it last like he would've alone, he welcomed the elevation, urging it on until, finally, he fell over the edge, letting out a deep, throaty groan, his legs tightening around Brendon's middle as his release shook him and he felt himself release in spurts in his underwear before finally breaking the kiss, sighing in satisfaction as his legs fell down and his head tipped back against the cushions. His briefs would be uncomfortable in a minute, and he would feel awkward about having done anything sexual with someone who wasn't even actually of age for nearly another month, not to mention all the other moral dilemmas this whole thing brought with him. And there was of course the fact that he was privately a bit embarrassed about the fact that he'd come sooner than he'd done in years, but right now those things were pretty far from his mind, which seemed to have shut down, leaving him with a dumb smile and a satisfied, tuneless humming crossing his lips.

Brendon had much the same smile as Ryan, though he could feel his eyelids drooping, as if keeping them open was an extremely difficult task. "That was... brilliant," he said quietly, blushing slightly. "But I am very tired all of a sudden," he mumbled as he lay his head on Ryan's chest. He kept it there for a few seconds, enjoying the silence and fighting a battle with sleep. With a heavy sigh, Brendon pushed himself up, careful not to crush any part of Ryan's body. Once he was off the couch, standing beside his... boyfriend?-- Brendon blinked and frowned slightly at the thought-- he held out his hand to help the other boy get up. Once they were both standing, Brendon started feeling a tad uncomfortable. Especially his pants. He bit his lip, fighting another blush, and tried to stand in a way that didn't make his pants stick to his thighs. But it was no use. "So, um, see you tomorrow?" he asked, then chuckled, partially hating that he didn't know what to say. He leaned in to give Ryan a kiss, hoping that it would cover his blunder.  


Ryan gave a slight chuckle after he pulled away from the kiss. "Yeah," he agreed, squeezing Brendon's shoulder and trying not to bite his lip as things suddenly started to feel a bit awkward. "If I hurry, I can maybe get out of my pants before my trousers are ruined," he stated with a slight wink as he pulled himself up from the couch and started towards the door, turning around with his hand on the knob to give a slight wave before he unlocked and opened the door and slid out of the room. He sucked in a deep lungful of air and let it out slowly even as he gave Zach a skittish smile. He was pretty sure the bodyguard had more than just an inkling of what went on when the doors were shut and locked, but so far that didn't seem to pose a problem. Finally Ryan squared his shoulders and crossed the hall to his own room, unlocking the door and going inside. On his desk his laptop seemed to be glaring at him and he let out a deep sigh. He wasn't going to enjoy writing the report tonight.

As soon as Ryan was gone, Brendon didn't waste any time thinking about what they'd just done. Instead, he completely ignored Zach when he came in and shot him a look, and headed straight to the washroom. Turning on the shower as hot as it would go without scalding him, Brendon stripped out of his clothes, wrinkling his nose slightly at the feel of his boxer-briefs sliding down his thighs, and then gingerly stepped into the shower. He tried not to think about what had just happened, but it kept playing in his head like a broken record, causing him to break out his big, goofy, smile. Sleeping tonight would come easily, that was for sure.

***  


  
Brendon was at breakfast the next morning quite early, having slept like a baby all night. He was grinning, which tended to scare people away, as he selected fruit and bread and cheese to eat. Making his way to the usual table, he was in time to see Spencer and Jon walk into the cafeteria. He grinned and waved at both of them, causing Jon to stop in his tracks and Spencer to look suspicious.  
  
"Alright, out with it," Jon demanded as soon as he sat down with his breakfast. Both he and Spencer were staring at Brendon in a menacing way, but Brendon simply popped at grape into his mouth and peered at them innocently through big, brown eyes. "Stop making the doe eyes, and tell us why you're so happy," Jon said, letting his frustration show, though Spencer was fighting with a grin. Brendon, though, simply shrugged and went back to eating his breakfast, that stupid grin still present. He'd tried fighting it this morning, but he'd just felt so good. And so he had given up and simply let himself enjoy it. At least it was making Jon frustrated, which was always funny.  
  


***

Ryan knew he was running late, but really, the report last night had taken longer than any he'd written yet. Writing it at all, mentioning things like he'd had to to people who rightfully shouldn't have anything to do with those aspects of his life, had been damn near impossible, and it had been past three in the morning when he'd finally sent off the half-assed thing and gone to bed. Then, because of the lack of sleep, he'd slept through his alarm clock and as a result overslept over half an hour. He'd rushed his shower and set the computer to printing the school assignments he'd been sent from the bureau while dripping all over the floor. Then he'd hastened to dry off and throw on some clothes before returning to the bathroom where he'd straightened out the mess the pillow had turned his hair into before using makeup to try to make it look like he'd gotten sufficient sleep the previous night.

Now, he was running down the hallways, calculating that he'd have around ten minutes to eat breakfast (what shoddy leftovers there were anyway) if he wanted to get to class on time. Finally entering the cafeteria, he skidded to a halt, taking a deep breath as he found a tray and a plate, piling fruit and a piece of toast onto it and grabbing a glass of juice before walking with hurried steps to the usual table where the others already looked about done. "Hey," he said with a small smile, putting down his tray and plopping into his seat. "Slept so deeply I didn't hear my alarm. Did I miss anything?" He quickly bit into his toast and started to chew the minimal amount as he looked up through his bangs at the three younger boys, one eyebrow cocked.  


"You obviously didn't miss much, judging by Brendon's face," Jon said, smirking when he saw the smile drop off the prince's lips. He smiled sweetly before pushing his chair back and standing up. He cleared his throat, looking pointedly at Spencer, who'd been busy stuffing his face with cheese and looked up almost guiltily when Jon stared at him in silence. Sighing and rolling his eyes, Spencer picked his bag up off the floor and pushed his chair back, joining Jon. "Ta ta," Jon said, wiggling his fingers at Brendon and Ryan, before taking Spencer's arm and leading him out of the caf.

Brendon, who was now blushing, focused on the plate in front of him, stuffing bread in his mouth to keep him from talking. Stupid Jon, always had to have the last word. He rolled his eyes, and then kept them firmly on his plate once again. It wasn't that he was embarrassed or anything, he just didn't want to seem too... eager. Or vulnerable. Or too much of any emotion, really.  
  
"Prat," Ryan muttered, shaking his head once he'd swallowed the toast. "He's starting to grow on me, but he can still be a real git." He reached out his foot under the table and nudged Brendon's leg briefly before pulling back, nothing anyone could see through, and smiled slightly in what he thought was a comforting way. Taking another bite of the toast, he searched Brendon's face. He knew him well enough to be able to read him at least a little by now. And Brendon was holding back, hiding something behind his usual mask, but he didn't seem to be hiding from the world as a whole so much as from Ryan. He swallowed again, biting his lip slightly for a moment as he let his own face fall a bit. "Regrets?"  


Brendon forced himself not to look up completely when Ryan nudged his leg, because he was busy composing his features into a neutral mask. He did, however, look up when Ryan asked him if he had regrets. Still with the mask in place, he locked eyes with Ryan, hoping they would convey how much he didn't regret it. What he said, though, was, "of course not," his voice not betraying any emotion. Clearing his throat, Brendon pushed his plate away. "You might want to hurry up, or we'll be late," he stated, pursing his lips. He was already anxious for the day to end, and it had barely started.   


The new behaviour and demeanour on the other boy was more than just a little confusing to Ryan, but he decided to take the words at face value. After all, it wasn't as if this was a situation Brendon had been in before, and chances were that he didn't actually really know how to act about it. Ryan pushed away the fact that this held through for him as well. And in the end, he couldn't really know if things had gone weird between them before they were away from the watchful eye of the other students. He grabbed his glass and downed the juice in one go before picking up his toast and his bag, standing up from the chair. "Okay," he answered simply, taking another bite. "Lead the way," he added, grimacing as he belatedly realized that he was talking with his mouth full. He finished chewing and swallowed, grimacing again. "Sorry."  


Brendon stared at Ryan for a few moments, his features fighting between twisting in disgust or in amusement. Finally, he simply burst out laughing and shook his head. Standing, he went over to Ryan and had to restrain himself from kissing the boy right there. "You uncouth boy, you," he decided to say, finally. He ruffled the boy's hair, his thumb sweeping over his temple affectionately, just to show that he was perfectly fine and did still feel the same for the boy. Pulling away, he picked up his own book bag and lead the way out of the cafeteria and to their first class.


	11. Chapter 11

"Was it just me, or was today extra boring?" Spencer asked, plopping himself onto Brendon's bed and making himself comfortable. It didn't last very long, though, because Jon jabbed his side and pushed his body over to make room for himself. They both laid on the bed, each hanging off the edge and barely fitting. Brendon looked over at them from his desk chair and snorted, shaking his head. "You're taking up all the space, Jon!" Spencer whined, poking the other boy in the stomach repeatedly, until finally Jon simply grabbed his hand and squeezed hard enough to make Spencer's fingers crack. "Ow! Jon! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, let go!"

"Only if you promise not to poke me again," Jon grinned, squeezing Spencer's hand again for good measure. Spencer, whimpering, agreed quickly and when Jon let go, cradled his hand to his chest. "Asshole," he muttered viciously, only to have Jon smack his stomach.

"Both of you are acting about five years old," Brendon informed them, looking over at Ryan and shaking his head in exasperation. "Especially you, Spencer. I see Jon is having negative effects on you," he stared at the boy pointedly, only to have Spencer flip him off. Letting his mouth drop open, Brendon made an affronted noise and scowled. "Fine," he said, lifting his chin and looking down his nose at them. "Don't you two have things to do that don't involve my room?" he finally asked after a few moments of silence. Both Spencer and Jon grinned at him, shaking their heads. Brendon rolled his eyes.

 

"Didn't you say you still had two assignments for Monday?" Ryan asked, cocking an eyebrow at Jon with a smile quirking on his lips. There was no reason not to be obvious. By now, he had experience that subtlety with Spencer and especially Jon only led to endless teasing. And it had seemed Brendon wanted the other two to leave. The best thing Ryan could do was work with it. "Something about Mr. Briggs flunking you in maths if you didn't start handing your work in on time?" He rolled his eyes slightly. "Unlike a certain person we know who gets a whole week off with no homework and no one bats an eye because the King's signature will be on the permission slip." He stuck his tongue out at Brendon, mock jealous for a moment before he let his face relax into a smile again.

"Hey!" Brendon said indignantly, even as he watched Jon grumble and scowl and pull Spencer with him towards the door. "I'll have you know that the reason I am missing school is extremely important, so. Shut up, you," he muttered, narrowing his eyes at Ryan playfully. He waved to Spencer when the boy called his goodbyes, and then watched the door slam behind them. "Well, that took care of them. Good job," he smiled softly at the boy. "You gonna miss me next week?" he asked, jutting his bottom lip out. He'd received a phone call from his father telling him that he was to come home on Sunday, because he'd be attending an important conference. Brendon guessed that his father wanted to brief him on what would happen beforehand, and then probably quiz him on the conference after. Which was why he'd be gone for five days. He sighed. It wasn't as though he wasn't interested in the running of his country, but he felt like he had better things to do, now. There was no use arguing with his father, though.

"Of course I am," Ryan answered with a chuckle. "It's going to be bloody boring, is what it will." He widened his eyes dramatically in response to the pout. "How can you leave me here with no one but Laurel and Harvey for company for so long?" he wailed before dissolving into laughter again. It was odd how at ease he felt with Brendon, and to a lesser extent Jon and Spencer, whose suspicions seemed to have died out again, even while there was that whole other awareness. Sometimes it didn't even feel like acting anymore, but then he'd remember some lie or another and the illusion would shatter. Damn, he was really getting much too personal about this whole thing. It was just a job. Just. A. Job. But with Brendon especially, some things just felt so natural and easy that it was difficult to see it that way. He sometimes couldn't help but wish that he'd had some prior experience with relationships, something, anything to make it hit farther from home, to affect him less. With an internal groan, he pushed those thoughts away, and buried them deeply, concentrating once again on being Ryan Hastings, Brendon's boyfriend, seventeen-year-old school boy. It wasn't as hard as it should be. "Seriously, though. It's going to be a drag."

Brendon smiled widely at Ryan and pushed himself off the chair. He gave Ryan a peck on his way by, and then let himself fall onto his bed. It definitely would be a drag. Being at the castle all week, no one to really keep him company. His mother would be there, but she liked her alone time, her time spent reading her books. Brendon, like every other time he went to the castle, would probably spend most of the time in his room or in one of the libraries, only coming out for meals. He hummed softly and patted the space beside him on the bed. "Sorry for leaving you with," he scrunched his nose, "whoever those people are." He chuckled and placed one hand behind his head and the other on his stomach. "Not really my fault, though. I'd obviously much rather be here," he added cheekily. He wouldn't admit it, but he was kind of nervous about what he would hear at this conference. What if a law that he didn't agree with was suggested? What if his father was planning something? What, he didn't know. But he didn't want to hear any bad news, that was for sure. Which was sad, really, since he knew that when he was King, he would have to deal with serious and sometimes possibly disturbing things. He didn't want his father to do things he disagreed with, but it wasn't as though he could say anything about it, either.  


 

"Think the conference is going to be bad news?" Ryan asked softly, swallowing slightly. He didn't want a war. Who did? And he didn't want Brendon, a mere eighteen-year-old to be pushed into helping to plan or even start it for purely moral reasons, of course. That was the kind of thing that would really wreak havoc on a person's psyche, especially one like Brendon who, essentially, was a softy no matter how much he tried to hide it. Ryan couldn't imagine the younger boy as a king. Too many hard decisions that could turn out badly no matter what he did. Brendon, really, was the kind of person who'd work himself to an early grave trying to make everything as good as possible for as many people as possible. And neither would he abdicate. He simply loved his parents too much, in spite of the conflicts and disagreements he might have with his father. Ryan really didn't understand something like that. But perhaps that was because his own father wasn't really the type to inspire much loyalty at all.

 

Brendon shrugged uncomfortably, looking up at Ryan through his bangs. "I don't know," he said, louder than he had wanted it to come out. "Just... please don't ask me any questions when I come back. I won't be able to answer you, and I'd really rather not tell you to stop talking, or... you know." He stopped abruptly, sighing. "I'm sure it'll be fine. It's just one conference, after all..." he trailed off and cleared his throat, averting his eyes. He picked at his shirt with the hand on his stomach and stared intently at the wall in front of him, at the door to his washroom. His life was basically one big secret sometimes. He hated keeping them, but he was good at it, which was really all that mattered. "Anyway, let's not talk about this right now," he said, looking back at Ryan, though he didn't like the pleading in his voice.

"Of course it'll be fine," Ryan reassured with a small smile before nodding. "Don't ask, don't tell," he stated. "And stop tensing so much. You'll give yourself a marvellous backache that way." He rolled his own shoulders slightly, wincing at the small pops that emitted. "I think I need a better posture," he muttered, sitting up straighter. He eyed Brendon for a moment, eyes narrowing slightly. "Why is it that even when you're relaxing, you're tense?" He finally shut up, smiling slightly. "Sorry. You know how much I like to babble."

   
Brendon chuckled and shook his head. "You're adorable when you babble, though you do say a bunch of useless things," he grinned and motioned for Ryan to join him on the bed. "And maybe I like giving myself a backache-- you could, after all, give me a back rub," he suggested, waggling his eyebrows in a manner that was completely unlike his usual self. "But, yeah, I'm sure everything will be just fine. And I'm never tense, might I add. Simply on guard at all times," he nodded, as if agreeing with himself. "It's just the way I've been taught to carry myself. I do have to seem like I know what I'm doing, or else people would start doubting me and that, my friend, would not be good at all."

"I, personally, tend to believe in people more when they're relaxed in what they're doing," Ryan stated. "When you're tense, your body language sends out the message that you aren't confident in yourself or what you're doing." He shrugged, getting up off the couch. "Of course you may have different mannerisms around here," he added with a wink as he crossed the room, sitting down next to where Brendon was lying and leaning down to kiss the top of his uncharacteristically messy head of hair. "You do realize that back rubs work best when the back is actually accessible, right?"

 

"Ooooohhh, yay," Brendon said giddily, quickly turning over and laying on his stomach. He hesitated for a moment, then lifted his upper body and yanked his shirt off. "D'you have some oil?" he teased, smiling up at Ryan. "And, for your information, I'm not tense, I am simply... not very relaxed," he finished lamely, before resting his head on his folded arms and hiding his face. "Now please be a good boy... friend and rub my back," he said quickly, his voice muffled by the pillow, and he blushed. He didn't doubt that Ryan would notice how red his ears had gotten.

"Has anyone ever told you just how adorable you are?" Ryan asked with a slight, suppressed laugh. "And I hope you realize we're in your room, not mine. And I don't think I have any oils unless there are some in that... box Tobe sent me." He shuddered slightly, glancing out of the corner of his eye at the smooth, pale expanse of skin in front of him. It was all he could do not to shudder again. "Don't you have any hand lotion or moisturizer or something?" He placed one hand on Brendon's back, kneading slightly and most decidedly not enjoying the warmth radiating from the bare skin.

 

Brendon hummed, taking his time in answering. "Mmmm... I don't know. I don't think so, just some soap and... just some soap," he finished meekly. "You can... go check in the package your brother sent, if you want. We'll have to check it out sometime, won't we?" He chuckled, but only to hide the fact that he was decidedly embarrassed about what he'd said. It was the first time they weren't fully dressed in each others company. It seemed a lot more intimate than rubbing up against each other, that was for certain. Or maybe it was just him. He'd definitely never done anything like this before, that was for sure.

"All right," Ryan answered with shrug. "Guess I will. I grew up with him, after all. Already scarred for life." He removed his hand and got up from the bed before leaving the room and padding across the hall to his own. He opened the closet where the box had been stuffed in the very bottom, under a variety of dirty laundry, and pulled it out, raising an eyebrow sceptically when he opened it. It was funny, really. These things didn't seem half as mortifying and stupid and dirty alone locked in his own room as they had done in the cafeteria in front of everyone else. It wasn't really outrageous stuff, even. Just various kinds of lube and condoms, a... book? Perhaps he'd be best off reading that some day. And then a catalogue of the more adventurous stuff. Not that bad really. Where were... There! He knew he'd seen massage oil in there during that brief glimpse in the cafeteria. Five different kinds, no less. If Tobe was anything, it was over the top. With an eye-roll, he picked up the tubes and bottles, stuffed them in the pockets of his hoodie and packed the box away again before setting off back to Brendon's room. "If you want heating oil, it comes in peppermint and strawberry. There's one gel, apple scented, and with the lotion kind it's coconut or chocolate," he stated, reading on the containers before tossing them onto the bed next to Brendon. "Trust him not to get anything neutral."

  
Brendon turned to look at the bottles on the bed, eyebrows raised. "Whoa, okay. Umm..." he flushed deep red before rolling his eyes at himself and quickly picking the peppermint one, holding up the bottle for Ryan to see. "This one?" he asked, nervous for many reasons and, yet, it seemed like very little to be nervous about. It was only a back rub, right? He turned back onto his stomach and pushed his face into his pillow. "I'll do you after, if you want," he suggested quietly, half hoping Ryan wouldn't hear him. The other part of him, though, was excited at the prospect of touching Ryan like that. He'd begun feeling relatively comfortable around the boy, and perhaps this would help them loosen up just a bit more, give them a bit of a push.

"Maybe that'd be nice," Ryan conceded, nearly as quietly, looking at the bed and Brendon on his stomach and trying to figure out the best way to go about it all. "Do you mind if I...?" He blushed slightly, and climbed on the bed, getting on his knees, one on ether side of Brendon's waist. Well, at least he wasn't sitting on him, so it didn't really count in a sexual way. Not much. He quickly picked up the bottle, opened it and squirted some of the stuff onto his hands, starting to rub them against each other to get the heating effect going. When it finally wasn't nearly as cold against his fingers anymore, he reached his hands down and started kneading the muscles between his fingers slowly, trying to feel out the knots. "This okay?" he asked softly. "I haven't actually done this a lot." Or at all, but that fact could shatter the image of Ryan Hastings, and he wasn't about to do that.

   
Brendon hummed contentedly again, and nodded into his arms. "Yeah, that's good," he said, sighing. "Go about it any way you feel comfortable," he said a few minutes later. If Ryan wanted to sit on his butt, then that was fine, wasn't it? He stretched his back slightly, his eyes fluttering as Ryan worked at his muscles. When Ryan kneaded at a particularly knotted spot near his shoulder, he moaned rather loudly before snapping his mouth shut and biting his lip. He felt too good to be embarrassed, though.  


 

Ryan hummed slightly, deciding to take the advice. He slowly trailed his fingers up and down the warm, smooth flesh, feeling out the knots and tensions before focusing on a spot just beneath Brendon's shoulder blades, using his knuckles at first to loosen the muscles up a little, trying to keep his touches gentle enough not to be painful. The scent of peppermint seemed to be spreading through the room at an alarming rate, and Ryan had to hold back a sneeze even as he switched to using his fingertips again on the now slightly loosened muscle. And now that he wasn't focusing on how awkward it was, it was actually nice. Comfortable and relaxing, really. And the feeling of warm, soft, slightly perspiring skin under his hands wasn't really something he could bring himself to feel opposed to either. "You feel like you have more muscle than is really visible," he stated with a small laugh, picking up the bottle with one hand and pouring just a little more out onto Brendon's back. "Sorry, I know it's cold."

   
Brendon hissed slightly when the oil dribbled onto his back, then relaxed and smiled, turning his head to the side so that Ryan could see his face. "Oh, yeah, well, I work out all the time, you know," he said playfully, opening one eye to look up at Ryan. The oil smelt extremely strong, clearing Brendon's sinuses and actually helping him breathe better, though he hadn't known previously that he'd been slightly congested. But the scent and feel of Ryan's hands, not to mention the warming quality, was making him kind of sleepy and when he closed his eyes, he felt as though he was going to nod off at any second. It actually took a lot for him to relax and keep himself from falling asleep at the same time. He didn't really think Ryan would appreciate not having his turn. So Brendon, to keep himself awake, and taking the risk of looking like a complete creep, began humming. It was just some random classical piece he'd heard his mother play, but it was enough for him to concentrate on something other than falling into a deep sleep.

"You really do have a beautiful voice, you know," Ryan murmured, moving away from the now softened muscle to some of the other ones that weren't as tense as this one had been, but must still be annoying. Not that it mattered much. This had probably stopped being about getting knots out of muscles several minutes ago, and a lot more about the relaxation and togetherness of it. "If you weren't a prince you could totally be a famous singer." He laughed slightly, taking his hands off for a minute to stretch out his fingers and wrists. "And don't just brush me off about it either, it's true." He put his fingers back down, careful not to move too far down the small of Brendon's back. He still didn't want to scare the boy off, and that definitely meant staying away from some areas until Brendon went there or suggested going there. They may have gotten off together, but that had still involved more clothes than the younger male was wearing at the moment. "And obviously you work out," he added with another laugh, smiling down at Brendon's face to make sure he knew Ryan wasn't really being serious. "You don't let Zach carry your book bag every day after all."

 

Brendon sighed and kept up the humming until Ryan's last comment made him laugh. "My mom had me take singing lessons and all that, along with piano lessons and various other instruments. She's always been into the arts, donated money to her favourite theatres and orchestras and classical musicians... I used to sing a lot, but it's not going to get me anywhere, so it doesn't really matter. My mother used to make me sing for her sometimes, and it made her happy, but she doesn't ask me anymore..." he trailed off and sighed, his eyes fluttering as Ryan kneaded his back. "I asked Zach to carry my bags a long time ago, and then I never asked him again. He set me straight on what he would and would not do, let me tell you. Actually scared me half to death. Which, I think, is part of the reason I trust him to protect me." He chuckled and shook his head at the memory, remembering how Zach had loomed menacingly over him, eyes narrowed, and his deep, gruff, voice telling Brendon that he wouldn't carry some book bag for a spoilt prince. Brendon had been miffed at the time, but he now recognized that he'd deserved the harsh words.

Ryan sighed inaudibly. Brendon was a good kid. The kind who deserved the choice to be anything he wanted to be, not just to have his future mapped out for him without any say in it. But he recognized that it would probably be a painful subject to talk about, so he went off on another note instead. "I play," he stated truthfully. "Not a lot for the last few years, but I used to do it every day when I was younger. Guitar and piano mostly, rhythmical stuff. And some weird instruments if I could get my hands on them. It was fun. When I was fourteen I was convinced I was going to be a famous song-writer, probably the guitarist in some band - God knows I don't have a strong enough voice to sing lead - and we'd make it big and everything would be great, but I guess I grew up enough to realize I had a more important job to do." He dug his fingers in a bit, fighting a persistent knot for a few moments before it finally gave in and surrendered, becoming soft and supple again. "I suppose the dream just wasn't strong enough."

 

Brendon chuckled again, smiling easily. "I guess everybody realizes that at some point. To make something your life, you have to believe in it a hundred percent," he said, and then immediately frowned. The advice he'd just given was something that he believed in, but didn't follow. He was going to make running this country his life, though it wasn't really what he wanted to do. He sighed and pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind. "Speaking of childhood dreams, though, I used to want to become a jockey," he laughed loudly at this, the thought absurd to him now. "I just really wanted to make riding horses what I did for a living. Can you believe that? Granted, I was about five years old, and I had just seen my father's prized horses in the stables, and I had thought them wicked. I can't really stand them, these days. They're kind of ugly," he snorted. "Like you said, I guess I grew up, right?"

"I suppose so, yeah," Ryan answered, reaching up and starting to knead Brendon's biceps, the knots in the back and shoulders pretty much all gone. For some reason, though, he could still imagine something like jockeying appealing to Brendon. The speed and the sheer feeling of freedom it would evoke. But perhaps he just didn't know Brendon well enough to say what did and didn't appeal to him yet. "Horses kind of scare me, though," he stated, lying just to fill the silence. "We have this summer estate, that we sometimes go to for a weekend or a whole week in the holidays or whatever, and it has stables, and when we were little Tobias dared me to ride one. I did, obviously, I think you've already gotten the fact that I don't really know how to back out of dares. I fell off and broke my arm and a few ribs and was about five inches away from being trodden to death, and yeah... I don't really have a problem with ponies, but the big ones..." He shuddered slightly, grimacing. "I guess I've always tended to be nervous around anything that was more than just a bit bigger than myself."

 

Brendon snickered quietly, pouting at the same time to show Ryan that he wasn't laughing about the boy having been injured. "Sorry, it's just funny to picture you afraid of horses. I mean, they are kind of ugly and such, but..." he chuckled, shaking his head. "You have a good reason, though, at least. I just kind of lost interest in them when I saw how disgusting they could be. I have a pretty weak stomach," he said, then smiled. "Which won't help me when I'm King," he flashed Ryan a grin before taking a deep breath and stretching. "So, do you, uhh... want your turn?" he asked meekly after a few long seconds in silence. He felt like goo, but in a very, very good way, and he figured that Ryan should get the chance to feel like goo, as well.

Ryan smiled, pulling his hands back. "Yeah," he answered, climbing off. "I reckon that'd be nice." He stretched, getting to his feet next to the bed and reached down to pull off his shirt. Designer, and ridiculously tight once again. Oh how he still detested Tobias for those forced shopping sprees. He had to fight the urge to cross his arms over his chest or cover up in some other way. Being naturally stick-thin and unable to put on weight no matter how much he ate had always made him self-conscious. The 'manorexic' comments in high school hadn't exactly helped him either, and he wasn't really at all fond of being less than fully dressed in front of anyone, but by now it would seem quite odd if he hadn't taken it off, so he'd just have to suck it up and hope Brendon didn't mind his thinness as much as he did himself. "Well, scoot over then," he said, forcing a laugh to hide his uncomfortableness and hoping it didn't sound as fake as it felt. "This positioning," he motioned to Brendon, still lying on his front on the bed and Ryan standing on the floor. "Is hardly going to help anything."

   
Brendon quickly sat up, his back feeling slick and slightly sticky, and then stood right in front of Ryan. Wrapping his hands around the boy's sides, he leaned in and pushed his lips against his boyfriend's, pulling back only a few seconds later. "Alright," he took a deep breath and moved aside so that Ryan could get situated. He looked at all the other bottles that Ryan had brought from his room, and then looked back at Ryan. "D'you want to try something other than Peppermint? I mean, the scents might clash, but it wouldn't be such a big deal..." he trailed off, feeling nervous. He'd never given anyone a back rub, only received them. He hoped that he could make Ryan feel as good as he'd made him feel. He shivered, the air cooling the oil on his back, though he wasn't quite uncomfortable yet.

"Just..." Ryan started, swallowing slightly, suddenly nervous on top of feeling awkward. "Whichever you prefer. It's your room that's going to smell of it for days," he added, managing a smile before he crawled onto the bed and lowered himself down on his front, head pillowed on his arms. "Really, Brendon," he said, looking back over his shoulder. "You don't have to do this if you're uncomfortable with it."

 

Brendon shook his head forcefully. "I am completely and totally comfortable with it. The thing I am not comfortable with is my ability at giving back rubs," he chuckled. "So, you know, don't hate me if it's horrible," he winked and then proceeded to climb onto the bed, throwing one leg over Ryan so that he was straddling his butt. He looked down at the bottles again, shrugging and picking up the Peppermint again. Pouring some into his hands, he rubbed them together briskly before placing them near Ryan's neck and then using his thumbs to massage the muscles there, his fingers kneading right above his collarbones. The heavy scent filled the room again and Brendon sighed contentedly. "Smells strong, but good. Like Christmas or something-- candy canes," he muttered, embarrassed right away by what he had said.

Ryan chuckled slightly, feeling his body slowly starting to relax. "Yeah," he agreed. "Or those sweets you get when you have a sore throat and everything just starts to feel like it's going to get better." Having someone seated on his ass felt a little weird, and entirely new, something he couldn't really say he was completely comfortable with, but Brendon's strong fingers digging gently into his muscles felt surprisingly good and seemed to almost force him into relaxation, nervous about the experience or not. The scent, though, really reminded him of cold candies. He hadn't only gotten them when he was cold as a kid. When he'd been living with his father their neighbor, an elderly lady, had given them to him most of the times he saw her. And especially when he was hurt, which he supposed was quite a bit more than the regular kid. She seemed to have an instinctive knowledge of when something happened, and she'd come over to his house the moment his father left, tears in her sad eyes while she muttered something about how sorry she was that she couldn't do anything for him and pressing a bag of cold candies into his hand after she'd helped him clean up. And now that he'd actually thought about it properly, the peppermint smell wasn't all about happy, Christmas-y memories, but something melancholy as well, and he was quick to push the thought away, focusing instead on the feeling of Brendon's fingers kneading his flesh.

   
Brendon hummed absently, slowly but surely making his way down Ryan's back with his hands. He was currently right below his shoulder blades, his thumbs making circles and his fingers just rubbing firmly. "I never got those candies until I came here. Always some foul tasting medicine or rushed to see a doctor," he finally mumbled, though he was concentrating mostly on Ryan's skin and muscles, and his fingers moving over them, smoothing them out. He had scooted back a bit and was now half-sitting on Ryan's thighs, making sure not to put his full weight on them. While one hand kept working, the other grabbed the bottle again and squirted just a bit onto the middle of Ryan's back and it slid down his spine before Brendon caught it with his fingers and worked it into the skin once again. It was repetitive, but Brendon was starting to like it. He felt himself relaxing, and it was easier to think about the task at hand. On impulse, he bent down and kissed the back of Ryan's neck, trailing his lips downwards for a bit. When he pulled back slightly and licked his lips, he was grateful that he'd been right in guessing that the oil wouldn't be foul tasting. He sighed into Ryan's skin and then concentrated fully on his hands once again, deciding against talking just now.

Sighing slightly, Ryan let his eyes drop closed before letting out a contended breath. He was surprised at how quickly he had become comfortable with this, and just how much he was enjoying those hands working his back. Because of his father's steady military income and his mother's lack of education and therefore low-paying jobs, his father had been given custody after the divorce. And his father was tough and macho and everything that he thought a real man should be. Ryan's mother had always made sure to hug him and to let him know she cared and to give him some of those warm, parental touches that his father thought beneath him, but one weekend a month didn't really make much of a difference, and Ryan had grown up not used to being touched much at all. That was probably why this felt so good, making small, warm flutters rise in his stomach and causing contentedness to fall over him like a blanket. Somehow, even though he did know the situation he was in, did know the possible dangers and risks of it, it made him feel safe, he guessed, humming slightly, just a long tune that died out again quickly enough. He didn't think he'd realized how much he'd missed this kind of closeness, even if feeling it now probably wasn't the best idea.  


  
"This is kind of fun," Brendon finally pointed out, laughing slightly before kissing Ryan's back again. His hands were working his sides, now, firm enough not to tickle, but also rather gentle. He pressed a series of small, feathery kisses to the boy's spine, just because he felt like it, and then grinned against Ryan's skin. "What are you thinking?" he asked softly, sensing somehow that Ryan had his mind on other things beside the wonderful massage he was currently getting. When Brendon got too close to Ryan's waistband, he dragged his hands back up the boy's back and restarted the whole process as he waited for an answer.

Ryan squirmed a little against the almost-tickling sensation. "I guess I just really have this... thing about touch," he explained, truthfully enough. He really didn't like to lie more than he had to anymore, even if he sometimes had to bend and twist it even when telling something that was basically the truth. "Not even a sexual thing, really. Just... my mum had all sorts of charities and tea parties and stuff, always busy and not around much, and my dad liked to be all manly man, so it's the whole cliche, not touched much as a child and as a result starved for it later." He rolled his eyes at himself, shrugging slightly even if it was a bit awkward in his position. He was feeling a little bit embarrassed, but somehow he had started, lately, to feel like he owed Brendon the truth on at least the little things that he  _could_  tell, even if it was sometimes a little mortifying and scary as hell.

 

Brendon nodded, digging his fingers into Ryan's shoulder blades almost hard enough to hurt before pulling back and smoothing the skin repeatedly. "Yeah, my dad's not really the touchy-feely type, either. Unless we're in public and he wants to make himself look good," he said, slightly bitter about it. "My mom, though. She's always hugging me or kissing my cheek, or just touching my shoulder. And she encourages me to do the same." He was silent for a while, letting his hands go further down Ryan's back than they had before and teasing at the skin right above his waistband. "Maybe it's because we had no real physical contact with our dads that we crave the touch of a man," he added as a joke, snickering quietly to himself. He had really just wanted to say 'crave the touch of man'. He kissed the base of Ryan's back lightly before working his way back up. He didn't really know why he was in such an affectionate mood, but he blamed it on being brainwashed by Ryan's massage.

"Psychologically, it makes sense," Ryan stated, his voice gone slow and soft, and he let out a slight groan at the feel of those fingers. "I don't like to believe that's all it is, though," he added, feeling goose flesh rising on the small of his back where Brendon's hands had briefly been. No one had ever actually touched him there before, at least not without the barrier of clothes between. Actually, no one had touched him like Brendon was at the moment, period. He supposed that was what was making him react like he was. And he felt a slight blush rising on his face, hoping desperately it wasn't spreading down to his shoulders or anywhere Brendon could see for that matter, at the sudden realisation that if he weren't so lax that he didn't feel like he could move a muscle if he tried, he would be seconds away from humping the mattress beneath him. It was just an innocent massage, going lower or not, it didn't warrant him reacting like this! Especially since he wasn't really gay or anything. Just... he was very torn. He was enjoying the massage, a lot, but the embarrassed part of him also couldn't help but wish that Brendon would finish soon. "It would sort of lose some meaning if it were, you know?" he managed to get out in a voice that was almost normal, only a little breathy. 

 

"Mmmm..." Brendon hummed, smirking at Ryan's breathy voice. He sat up, running his fingers right along the inside of the other boy's waistband, seeing what kind of reaction he could get. It wasn't exactly fair, since Ryan hadn't teased him, but Brendon knew that the massage had been arousing, though he'd had too much on his mind to do anything about it. But now... well, he could make sure it felt good for Ryan. "No more talk about fathers," he finally said, swiping his tongue along Ryan's spine. "Grossing me out," he mumbled against Ryan's skin and chuckled breathily. After a few seconds of kissing and licking, he dragged his hands up and continued with a fairly innocent massage, smiling the whole time.

Ryan nearly managed to hold in a groan at the feel of that damn tongue and those fucking soft, perfect lips, trying to control his breath even as it wanted to come out in pants. And he was struggling to figure out how to respond to all of this. What would Ryan Hastings do and say, what would  _his_  reaction be? He fought to keep his eyes from rolling back as cool air hit the now wet areas of his skin simultaneously with Brendon's fingers digging into another knot. "Bloody hell," he groaned, looking over his shoulders, his role pulled tightly around him like a shield. "Don't start anything you don't plan to finish."  


  
Brendon smiled widely and leaned forward to push his lips against Ryan's awkwardly, breathing in sharply through his nose.  Pulling back, he quickly pushed himself off Ryan, nearly stumbling to the floor, and sighed loudly. "Right, well, turn onto your back," he demanded. "Unless, of course, you'd like to be on top," he grinned, looking almost angry when his eyes darkened. He set about pushing all of the bottles of oil off the bed while Ryan situated himself however he wanted.

Ryan's mind told him that being on top, keeping hold of some control of the whole situation, was the best way to go, but his body protested that it was just too relaxed and weak at the moment to do much of anything, and with a slight groan, he rolled onto his back, looking up and feeling a small shock go through him at the look of Brendon's face. For a moment he felt panic bubbling just under the surface, absolute certainty that he'd been caught, that the truth was about to come out, and absolute fear of what that would entail. He drew a few, quick breaths, lowering his eyes slightly, harshly telling himself that it was just Brendon, just Brendon, nothing to be afraid of. "What did you have in mind, then?" he asked, trying to keep his voice under control, but most likely failing. The trembling could be interpreted in so many ways, though, that it didn't worry him too much further.

Brendon straddled Ryan again and wasted no time in kissing him. He placed his hands on either side of Ryan's head, moving his lips against his boyfriend's soft ones and swiping his tongue across the seam. He nipped the bottom lip gently and then pressed his tongue into the other boy's mouth, his hands moving to tug at Ryan's hair briefly before sliding down to cup his face. He'd grown used to their kissing, and he liked that it could be slow and relaxed, but in the next minute crazed and intense. He liked that he could recognize Ryan's taste, that it was familiar, and that his lips were slightly smaller against his own, but just as supple. He even liked the wet slide of their tongues, the harsh breaths and the way their hands could roam, never stopping. It felt better than he had ever imagined, and he still got that tingling feeling when they pulled apart for breath before smashing their lips together once again. He stretched his body out over Ryan's, now, his legs on either side and their groins lined up almost perfectly. He arched slightly, pulling away from the kiss with a moan, and kissed Ryan's neck, sucking and licking as he made his way back up to that mouth. He felt like he was going insane, really, though he didn't think to be concerned.

The sudden pressure against his lower regions sent Ryan's mind spinning almost at once, and in spite of the previous immovability of his body he found himself arching up almost desperately, gasping as those lips relentlessly attacked his neck. "God," he whispered. "Bren, shit..." It was a struggle to keep hold of his accent when his head seemed to have abandoned him, but having spoken in no other way for months worked to his advantage. He didn't think Brendon would pick up on it at the moment either. He was arching up again, his body looking for pressure and friction without any conscious command from his mind, and he'd already been so far gone, without even truly realizing it, before they started this that he probably wasn't going to last that long. Probably a good thing, since he was pretending to be a teenager. The string of thought disappeared from his mind as quickly as it had come, leaving behind a blur of sensations and images and pleasure. He raised his hands, burying them in Brendon's hair, and pulled the prince's head up to smack their lips together again, one hand going down to roam over that still naked back while he instinctively thrust his tongue into Brendon's mouth, gasping through his nose as he ran it over the roof of the younger boy's mouth, his short, blunt nails digging into soft skin as any conscious thought seemed to leave entirely.

Brendon groaned and ground his hips down, kissing Ryan back fervently. He slid his hands down from Ryan's face to his chest, flicking his nipples with his thumb and panting into the boy's mouth. His hips were moving almost of their own accord, flexing and making him feel warmer by the second. He spread his legs wider and was rewarded when the feeling of pleasure intensified. "F-fuck," he muttered when he pulled back for only a second, and then went back to kissing Ryan again, his tongue sliding over teeth and flicking at lips. Tentatively, he slid his hand down Ryan's body, shifting slightly to accommodate, and cupped Ryan through his pants. He knew that he wouldn't have done it if he'd been thinking clearly-- or at all, really, but now that he felt it, now that he could feel the heat against his fingers, and the shape, and  _God_. He moaned softly and squeezed his fingers slightly, his eyes shut tightly as he tried to concentrate on the kissing, which was decidedly getting sloppy, and tried not to think about what his hand was doing. And he wouldn't admit that he liked it, though it was clear by his reaction, wouldn't admit that he'd wanted to do that since the last time they'd got off together. He had never touched someone else's cock, obviously, but it was something he knew he would remember for a long time.

Ryan moaned loudly, arching up desperately into the touch, much too out of it to be weirded out or to second-guess it at all. He clutched at Brendon, holding on as best as he could while his whole perception exploded into a panorama of colours and feelings, and when he arched up again it only took a squeeze of Brendon's hand to make him shudder as he came long and hard, embarrassingly soon, back tensed and nails nearly breaking the smooth skin of the younger boy's back as he shook through wave after wave before finally slumping down on the bed, boneless again. After a moment he opened his eyes and looked up at the flushed face above him. His mind still swimming, he came to a spur of the moment decision, pushing at Brendon and rearranging himself until they were side by side, facing each other. Then he dived in for another kiss, his tongue thrusting in and out of Brendon's mouth, slow and maybe a bit sloppy and wet now, but he couldn't seem to mind as his hand reached out and trailed down Brendon's chest and stomach, following the still not very thick trail of dark hair leading into his pants. Resting his hand on the waistband, two fingers questing slightly lower, he broke the kiss and glanced at Brendon questioningly through his bangs.

 

Brendon's breath hitched when he looked up at Ryan after having the boy roll him to his side and then proceed to kiss him quite thoroughly. He bit his lip, looked down between them at Ryan's hand, and inhaled shakily. "Christ," he said, chuckling breathlessly. "Fuck, yeah, please," he nodded, pushing his forehead against Ryan's and staring at him. He licked his lips and held his breath as his eyes dropped to look at Ryan's hand, before he closed them and kissed Ryan again. He was so hard, he felt as though he was going to explode. He couldn't remember ever feeling this way, he'd never been this aroused, he had never needed to come so badly as he did right now. He was ready to beg if it would help them along.

Without stopping to think, not least because he had the feeling that thinking would be pretty bad at the moment, Ryan worked the button and zipper open as quickly as he could with only one hand and reached through the slit in the revealed boxers, forcing himself not to hesitate as he pulled Brendon erection out, determinedly not thinking about the fact that he had another guy's cock in his hand. Instead he focused on the kiss, sucking Brendon's tongue into his mouth as he decided to simply go for what felt good on himself and gripping the base firmly, making long strokes up the hot, pulsing shaft and stopping to swipe his thumb over the slit every few strokes, making sure to alternate the pressure and speed. Feeling a bit breathless, he pulled away from the kiss, burying his face in Brendon's neck, kissing and licking and stopping himself from sucking or biting down or doing anything that would leave a mark, his hand moving on muscle memory. Really, it wasn't all that different. The angle wasn't what he was used to, but at least he knew what to do, he evaluated as he pressed his thumb extra sharply against the head before making another down stroke, licking a long line nearly all the way up to Brendon's ear.

  
Brendon's eyes drooped from the pleasure coursing through his veins, all of it coming straight from his cock. He curled his fingers into Ryan's hair, keeping him close, and arched into the boy's hand. It felt a million times better than when he jerked off, and though Ryan sometimes gripped too hard, Brendon could only feel his orgasm building up and it wasn't long at all before his hips were jerking as he came, most of it landing on the bed or Ryan's hand. He moaned loudly as Ryan milked him to the end and then let himself roll onto his back, panting harshly, and pulling Ryan with him. "Oh, my God," he said, dazed. "How am I going to sleep on this bed?" he chuckled and shook his head, didn't know why the hell he was saying something like that at a time like this. The bed had a small wet spot, of course, but he was sure that he could handle it until the laundry was done. "We should do that more often," he mumbled and closed his eyes, concentrating on getting his breathing under control.  
  
Ryan hummed in agreement, releasing Brendon and lying down with his head on the younger boy's shoulder. "And don't pretend you've never come on this bed before," he muttered, eyes drooping as he laced his legs with Brendon's, ignoring the uncomfortable stiffening of his boxers as his own come dried in them. They were already ruined, not much to do about it. He was too tired to care at the moment. He reached out a hand and caught Brendon's, lacing their fingers together distractedly. Honestly, he'd never taken himself for a cuddler, but at least it didn't seem like things were on the verge of becoming awkward the way they almost had last time. He placed another small kiss on Brendon's neck before closing his eyes, too tired and lax to fight the impending fading of the world around him. The report he had to write that evening was the farthest thing from his mind.

Brendon sighed softly and nuzzled Ryan's hair. He brought up their joined hands and kissed Ryan's knuckles, smiling softly to himself, his eyes still closed. After a few silent minutes, though, he spoke. "My dick is getting cold..." he mumbled, reaching down a lazy hand to tuck himself back into his boxers and pants. It took him a few seconds and he fumbled quite a few times, but he finally got it. Zipping up his pants, though, required too much and he decided against it. "And for your information, I have only jerked off in the shower since I've come to this school," he scrunched up his nose in disgust. "It's really gross to think about Zach hearing me," he explained. "Thank the heavens we were too occupied to even think about him..." he trailed off and shuddered. Pulling Ryan closer, he burrowed into the blankets underneath him and smiled. "I'll miss you next week," he muttered softly, inwardly rolling his eyes at himself.

"Miss you too," Ryan muttered automatically, half asleep, digging his face a bit further into Brendon's shoulder, too tired to even think about responding to any of the other things the other boy had said. He gave a slight yawn, scrunching up his nose habitually, and then he gave into sleep, nodding off with nothing more than another small yawn.


	12. Chapter 12

"We need to be prepared for any attack, we cannot let them make the first move. Either we send in our troops outside of every frontier, ready to breech, or they will win. We cannot be caught off guard."  
  
"They have not given us any reason to suspect they want a war, not now. To keep our country free and safe, we need to stay on our side of the playing field, and we cannot provoke them unnecessarily."  
  
"We are not cowards! If our troops attack first, we will win. Your Majesty, I implore you. Give us permission to send off our troops. This is what we have been training for."  
  
Brendon looked up when the man in the deep green military uniform addressed his father directly. It was the first time that it had happened during the whole two-hour-long-and-still-running conference. He'd been listening intently, his eyes glued to the table in front of him, to every word being said. They were debating on whether or not they wanted to attack DURA, on whether or not to declare war. Brendon had kept his head down for the most part, but he couldn't believe what he was hearing. Of course, he knew that his country was a rival to DURA, but to declare war? He couldn't imagine why they would want to, not after years of living more-or-less peacefully. Many of his father's councilmen were voting against the war, though the several military men were fighting for it rather loudly. Personally, Brendon didn't think that war was a good idea at all, but what could he say?  
  
He listened through the whole argument. Basically the military didn't want to take any chances, saying that if they attacked first, everything would be fine. The council, however, strongly disagreed, saying that they wanted to keep the peace for as long as it lasted. None of them wanted to put their inhabitants through the ravages of war, which was what would surely happen if the military went through with their plans. His Father let them work it out, not saying a word until the end of the meeting, where he simply bid them farewell and told them that he'd be in touch when he'd made his decision. Brendon shook every one's hands before leaving, as was his duty, and then followed his father to the car that would bring them home.  
  
"What did you think?" his father finally asked when they were sitting in his study in the castle. Brendon licked his lips and shook his head. "I don't think that starting a war would solve anything, or help anyone," he answered firmly, knowing that his father liked people who knew what they wanted and how to say it. His father tilted his head to the side slightly and studied his son for a few moments, unnerving Brendon and making him feel like a child who'd done something wrong.  
  
"And if they decide, in a few months time, to attack us? What then?" he finally asked, one eyebrow raised questioningly. Brendon sighed and sat up straighter. "Then we have troops that have been trained for this specifically, who can defend us. Who are willing to die to defend their country," he said decisively.  
  
"And the people, the children and the mothers, and the common workers who live here, what will happen to them if DURA decides to attack? Is it not better to sacrifice the lives of our enemies instead of our own people? They will be killed by the thousand in their cities and towns if we let DURA have the first move."  
  
"If we attack, and DURA reciprocates, then it would happen in any case."  
  
"Ah, but what if our troops keep them too busy in their own country? After we have diminished their numbers, they would not be able to do much damage..." his father trailed off and sighed. "Think on that, Brendon. I do not want an answer right now, nor do I want you to share your thoughts. When I call you for the next conference, then we may discuss this further. Perhaps after thinking about these questions, these decisions, and hearing what else the military has to say, you will find the right answers."  
  
Brendon, who knew when he was being dismissed, quickly stood, bowed slightly to his father, and then made his way out of the study. He hated that his father had put all of these questions in his head, and that he would no doubt be unable to stop thinking about them. But he also couldn't wait to get back to school.  
  


***  


Brendon was in his room, reading the file he'd been giving for the conference. He was sprawled on his bed, one arm behind his head, and then other hand holding the file open. The file was basically agreeing with the military's point of view, saying that attacking was better than waiting it out and being made victims first. But Brendon was more concerned with the fact that, what if they attacked, but DURA had never wanted to start a war? They would be sacrificing lives for absolutely nothing. Sighing, he rolled onto his stomach and looked at the clock. It was 6:30 Sunday evening, and he had arrived from the castle only about an hour ago. He hadn't told anyone about his arrival, but he had informed Ryan before leaving that he would be arriving at this time, and so he really hoped the other boy would get here as quickly as possible. Anything to get Brendon's mind off of these sickening thoughts of war.  
  
Plus, he'd apparently gone brain-dead momentarily and bought Ryan a huge box of chocolates. He had no idea why; he'd just seen the orange box in a window, with it's huge green bow, and he had bought it. And now he had to give it to Ryan, because he surely was not going to eat all that chocolate. It embarrassed him just to think about it, really. What kind of person bought chocolates? It wasn't even a special occasion or anything, apart from the fact that they hadn't seen each other in a week. Brendon sighed and focused on the file again, really hoping that Ryan would come over and soon. The chocolate was probably melting, after all.  
  


***

Somehow, the fact that Ryan had had nothing to report for the last few days had given him a strange sense of relief, slightly loosening the knot of guilt in his stomach that had been building and growing and tightening for he didn't even know how long. And Ryan had always been a sucker for rules, details, and principles. Reports were something that was necessary, not just in his job, but in his life philosophy. It seemed odd that he should suddenly dislike them so. At least he hadn't minded these days when there hadn't been anything to say. But on the other hand, those days had been incredibly boring, filled with classes and homework, keeping even some to make for himself that he could've easily sent back and gotten someone else to make, but it took up time. Of course hanging out with Spencer and Jon had been more fun than he'd expected, and the trip to town they'd made  the night before had been surprisingly entertaining. But all along it had really felt like something was missing. Something like the one fourth of the group that was really what kept them together. Well, whatever. It was a job, not some mindless form of entertainment. he wasn't  _supposed_  to have fun or not be bored anymore than he had been every day in the office back in NYC before he came here.

Looking down at his watch, away from the math assignment he'd been trying to drag out, he realized it was about the time Brendon had said he'd be back, maybe even later, and the young man felt a smile rising up involuntarily on his face. Well, he supposed a dopey grin wasn't entirely out of character, so he let it stay and got out of his chair, quickly walking across the room, throwing off his pajama pants and finding a pair of jeans in his closet instead. The night out and a few drinks too many the previous night, followed by a dramatic sneaking back into the school at nearly four in the morning had caused all three of them to turn in sick for the day only to meet up at four in the afternoon to dig into Jon's food storage for a belated brunch, not ill at all unless already fading hangovers were counted, and all Ryan could do at the moment was hope he didn't run into a teacher. His being out of his bed and on the way out of his room wouldn't be that easy to explain. He finally threw on a t-shirt and left his feet bare before opening his door, peeking cautiously to both sides before making his way across the hall, giving Zach a sheepish smile and knocking on the door.

Upon hearing the knock on his door, Brendon stashed the file in the drawer of his bedside table, vowing to find a better place to hide it later tonight. He crossed the room and opened the door slowly, peeking out before letting himself grin and opening the door wide. "Long time no see," he teased, taking a hold of Ryan's shirt and dragging him into the room. He kicked the door shut with his foot and had his lips on Ryan's before the door was fully closed. When he pulled back, he took Ryan's hand, lacing their fingers, and dragged to boy to his bed, sitting on the bed and tugging on Ryan's hand to make him sit, as well. "How was your week?" he asked, still sporting a goofy grin. Funny how he was practically itching to give Ryan his 'present' now.

"Not as bad as it could've been," Ryan answered with a small smile, squeezing Brendon's hand. "Spencer and Jon apparently made it their mission for me not to be bored or pine or whatever, but I still did miss you a lot," he added, leaning into Brendon's side. It was what Ryan Hastings would do after all. The fact that the closeness made Ryan Ross feel safe and comfortable didn't have anything to do with it at all. "I'm actually 'ill'," he added, making quotes with his free hand. "So if a teacher comes in here and asks, I'll hide and you just tell him I went down to the kitchen for some tea or something, okay?" He smiled slightly. "I'd ask how your week was, but you probably can't tell or don't want to talk about it, so I won't." The smile fell off his face a little, and he squeezed Brendon's hand again, burrowing a little closer and placing a small kiss on the younger boy's neck. "At least you're back," he finished.

"Yeah, best not talk about my week. Really boring stuff, anyway," he said quietly, then looked down at Ryan and smirked. "Ill, are you? Well, Mr. Hastings, you look perfectly fine to me. Tip top shape, in fact," he chuckled and kissed the top of his boyfriend's head. "Oh, but there was one interesting thing about my week and it's actually..." he got up, letting go of Ryan's hand to go look into his almost completely empty suitcase. He came back with the colourful box of chocolates and handed it to Ryan. "Right here. I don't know what came over me, so no comments. But something about it just screamed "Ryan!" Probably that bow..." he trailed off, laughing as he sat down beside Ryan again and put an arm around the boy's small shoulders. The box was huge, and Brendon had no doubt that it would take a very long time to go through all the chocolates, but if they shared it would probably be alright and only last them a few months. Again, he wondered why he'd bought the gift, but decided that question was best unanswered for now.

Ryan felt something inside him melt, the huge ball of guilt and pity and concern and something less identifiable become tighter and more painful, almost choking him for a moment. "Thank you," he murmured, leaning in to press a small, innocent peck on Brendon's lips, pressing down that knot of emotion that was moving up to become a big painful lump in his throat until he could ignore it. He managed a smile, taking the offered box, and even giggling slightly as the colours registered. " _This_  reminded you of me?" he asked in a teasing voice. "I think that maybe that should be cause enough to evaluate my fashion sense again." He untied the ribbon and opened the box, finding a chocolate and putting it in his own mouth before offering Brendon one with a small smile. Once he was finished chewing and had swallowed, he added an explanation, "And ill, in this case, means hung over and sleep deprived. Yesterday Jon apparently decided it would be really good for all of us to go out and get monumentally pissed."

Brendon took the chocolate from Ryan's fingers with his mouth, wrapping his lips around it and pulling it into his mouth with his tongue. He chewed it slowly, watching Ryan the whole time, and then nodded. "Jon likes getting pissed," he said casually, shrugging a bit. "I've never taken him up on his offer, but he usually looks like he's having fun," he chuckled a bit, remember that the first time he'd really met Jon had been when the other boy had been drinking, and he'd found him hilarious. "Did you have fun, then?" he asked, looking over at Ryan with interest. He looked down at the box of chocolates again and snickered. "Your fashion sense is starting to grow on me, by the way," he said fondly, as an after thought. "So, no worries."  


"Yeah, I think I've noticed that about him," Ryan agreed with a slight snicker, shivering a little where it almost felt like Brendon's lips were still around his fingers. "And it was pretty fun. I had no idea so many drinking games existed, though. I knew 'I never...', but the others..." He shook his head slightly. "I didn't even drink  _that_  much. I just can't seem to hold my drink very well." He leaned against Brendon's side again, taking another chocolate, this time chewing it slowly to savor the taste. "Mmm..." he let out, closing his eyes briefly. "This is good stuff," he finally stated when his mouth was empty again. "And I'm definitely glad you don't completely hate the clothes, or some things might get a little awkward every once in a while." Not that Ryan liked them himself. But he was getting used to them.  


Brendon chuckled and nodded. "Well, I wouldn't buy you disgusting chocolate, would I?" he asked, tightening his arm around Ryan. "Glad you had fun, though. You played 'I never'? Do I want to know what you found out about the other two? Or... what they found out about you?" he scrunched up his nose, not liking that idea in the least. He didn't want Spencer and Jon finding things out about Ryan before he did! He was his boyfriend, after all. He had a right to know things, didn't he? Frowning, Brendon took a white chocolate from the box and stuffed it into his mouth to keep him from saying anything. Jealousy-- or, whatever this was-- was not attractive in the least, or so he'd heard. And Ryan probably wouldn't have revealed anything major. He'd have heard about it, surely. Hopefully.

"Well," he said with a slight frown. "They were kind of ganging up on me, so to get me even more drunk Spencer said 'I've never made out with a guy'. Jon has totally snogged a bloke!" He let out a loud chuckle. "Jon was so angry because Spencer was 'supposed to be on his side', and Spencer was so confused, it was hilarious." He dug his face briefly into Brendon's shoulder, trying to stop the laughter. Finally he pulled his head up. "They both kind of sucked at it, though," he stated. "The point of it is to find out weird things about each other, but that really only happened accidentally. They were totally obvious. 'My brother's never sent me a box of condoms'." He rolled his eyes slightly and stretched slightly to press a peck to Brendon's jawline. "Would've been much more fun if you'd been there, though."

Brendon chuckled rather breathlessly, then hummed in appreciation. "Jon, kissing a guy? Well, then..." he returned Ryan's kisses, obviously not that interested in Jon's antics right this moment. He kissed the boy's neck, burying his hand in his hair so that he could pull Ryan's head back to give himself some room. "Mmmm... you smell good," he muttered, licking a path up Ryan's neck and then promptly attacking his mouth. Brendon pressed one hand against Ryan's chest, letting his fingers drag down, and was startled into completely pulling away when there was a loud knock at the door. Panting, Brendon whipped around to stare at it, his mouth slightly open and wet and red. "Seriously?" he asked, mostly to himself, not expecting an answer. He looked over at Ryan, bewildered, and then slowly got up and crossed the room. "Who is it?" he asked, then groaned when he heard a snicker on the other side, unmistakably Jon's.

"Let us in, Bren. We haven't seen you in  _days_ ," Jon emphasized, and Brendon could almost hear his pout. Sighing, he looked back at Ryan, making sure the boy had had time to compose himself, and then swung the door open, plastering a smile on his face. Jon hugged him tightly, apparently going for the theatrics, but Spencer's hug was light and friendly, and Brendon couldn't help hugging him back. He closed the door while Jon made himself comfortable on the bed next to Ryan, and then exclaimed, loudly, "Oooh! Chocolate!"

Brendon and Spencer rolled their eyes at the same time.

"Hey!" Ryan exclaimed when the box disappeared from his hands. He felt a pout spread over his face. "That was mine, Jon Walker. Do you  _want_  me to start asking question about the snogging-a-boy business?" He narrowed his eyes, making a grab, but wasn't quick enough. Putting the pout back on his face, he stood up from the bed and crossed the room to Brendon's side, leaning against the younger boy again. "Jon's mean," he stated quite simply, still alternately pouting and glaring in the direction of the bed.

"I bought those for Ryan," Brendon told Jon calmly, staring at the boy pointedly. Jon, who had just shoved a chocolate into his mouth, was about to answer when Spencer cut in. "You bought them for Ryan!?" he asked loudly, his face crumpling and making doe eyes at the couple standing a few feet away. "Yes, that's what I just sai--" "That is so cute! Brendon, I didn't know you had it in you..." Spencer trailed off, shaking his head in awe, and making Brendon feel more uncomfortable than ever. And then Jon spoke up.

"I have to say, that is quite romantic," Jon said, before popping a dark chocolate into his mouth and chewing thoughtfully. He placed the box on the bed next to him and shrugged. "What's gotten into you?" he asked, brows furrowing. And then, as though Ryan's threat had only just then been processed, he glared at the other boy. "Keep your mouth shut about that," he said, eyes narrowing menacingly. He looked at Brendon when his friend chuckled. "It's not funny," Jon folded his arms across his chest and sulked.

"Nothing's gotten into me," Brendon said after he'd recovered from laughing. He put his arm around Ryan possessively and jut his chin out.  


Ryan couldn't hold it in anymore, and burst out laughing, burying his face in Brendon's shoulder again for a moment before peering out. "Who was it anyway?" he asked, a slight smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth while he rested into the crook of Brendon's elbow, cocking an eyebrow. After a moment with no answer he moved away a little, gripping Brendon's hand and tugging the younger boy with him over the floor before gently pushing him into the armchair, plopping down on one knee himself just afterwards. He held out a hand. "Chocolate please," he ordered, snickering again half-way through the two words.  


Brendon smiled, content to follow Ryan, and then wrapped his arms around the boy's waist and pulled him closer into his lap, resting his chin on his boyfriend's shoulder. He grinned when Spencer gave Ryan, not just one chocolate, but his whole box back, and chuckled when Jon protested. Brendon turned his face into Ryan's neck, inhaling his scent and kissing him a few times, just because. "You guys are getting way too domestic," Jon said with a pout. "And I'm still not telling," he turned his glare on Ryan. Spencer chuckled and shook his head. "I think it's cool," he put in, nodding. "Shows that you guys are comfortable with each other," he added, smiling and sighing happily for his two friends-- for Brendon, in particular. He would have never imagined to see his uptight friend in this position. He was glad that Brendon looked relatively happy, though he knew that the conference with his father couldn't have gone very well or carried much good news.

Leaning back against Brendon's chest in what he hoped looked like complete comfort, even as he pushed away yet another wave of guilt, he picked out a chocolate and turned his head to look at the boy while he held it out in offering, waiting until it was once again nipped out of his fingers before he took one for himself. He finished chewing before he looked away again, raising his eyebrows at the other boys. "Is that jealousy I detect, Walker?" he asked, successfully managing to hold back another snicker before flashing Spencer a - hopefully - happy-looking smile. "And what else did we find out last night?" he asked, humming slightly as he put a thoughtful look on his face, deciding to even things out a little. "Spence, having a crush on your cousin is really not on, you know that, right?"

Spencer scrunched his nose and frowned at Ryan. "I hate you," he mumbled petulantly. "I'm always nice to you, you know," he shook his head at Ryan in mock-disappointment and tutted.

Brendon snickered, kissing Ryan's chin and leaving a smudge of chocolate, which only made him laugh more. Jon made a disgusted sound from his bed and grumbled under his breath for a few seconds about something that Brendon knew he'd probably be offended by if he could hear him. As it was, though, he simply ignored his friend and held onto Ryan tighter, resting his chin on the boy's shoulder and smiling contentedly. "Heard you guys had a pretty fun week," he finally said, composing himself and becoming slightly more serious. He nipped Ryan's earlobe as he waited for an answer from Spencer or Jon, ignoring Jon's current huffing.  
  
"Yep," Spencer smiled proudly, and then it quickly turned into a smirk. "Ryan was all mopey for the first day, and he was really depressing to be around, so we decided to take his mind off of... you." He flashed Ryan a big, innocent, smile as Brendon snickered quietly.  
  
Ryan glared back, wrinkling his nose slightly. "I wasn't  _that_  bad," he protested. "At least I got my homework done." He snuggled closer, resting his head on Brendon's shoulder. And really, he'd seen Jon and Spencer all day every day for a week. He could really do without seeing them at the moment. At least he guessed that's what would further his job the most. He took another chocolate, making an exaggerated face of delight before smirking at Jon who had been eyeing the box quite a bit for the last minute before turning his head slightly to peck Brendon's cheek. "So, any other fun little secrets you want to know?" he asked, smiling slightly.

Brendon looked thoughtful for a moment, even going as far as stroking his chin to show he was thinking of something to say. Finally, he smiled widely and nodded. "How do I ask Spencer and Jon to leave without them getting miffed?" he asked, looking extremely proud of himself. He looked over at Spencer and Jon. Jon was still glaring, but Spencer was smiling and shaking his head. He got up, taking Jon's hand and tugging him along. "Alright, alright, we get it," Spencer said, pretending to be exasperated. "I'd swear you too were going at it like bunnies if I didn't know one party extremely well... but with the amount of time you're spending together..." he trailed off and at Brendon's glare, raised his hands in surrender. "I'm just saying," he protested before opening the door and slipping out, Jon on his heels, though he threw one last glance at the couple before leaving.

"Well," Brendon said slowly, shrugging. "I'm a genius," he smiled cheekily.

Ryan threw his head back, letting out a long laugh. "At least you had a stroke of it," he partially agreed with a teasing smile before turning around on Brendon's lap until he had a knee on either side of the younger boy's waist on the wide chair. He didn't say anything else before he dived in, connecting their lips almost a little too hard while his hands came up almost automatically to tangle in Brendon's soft locks, the box of chocolates falling to the floor behind him. Luckily the lid was on, so there wouldn't be a mess. Not that he was really noticing at the moment, what with that velvety, warm tongue tangled with his own and the hard body he was pressed up against. He panted through his nose, eyes fluttering shut as he trailed on hand down Brendon's neck to his back, fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt tightly. Something in him was screaming about too many clothes, but he ignored it. Taking too much initiative might still not be the best idea. He was even being a good boy and keeping his weight on his knees rather than sitting down entirely, not that his body was really too fond of that idea. But he did still have some restraint, right?

Brendon moaned in surprise and his arms, which had been wrapped around Ryan, flopped down uselessly at his sides. He pressed harder against Ryan, his head spinning with the force of their kiss. Feeling awkward with his hands doing nothing, Brendon brought them up and pushed them under Ryan's shirt, pressing his hands flat against the small of his back and urging him forward, as close as he could get. He thought briefly of Spencer's comment- 'going at it like bunnies'- and blushed deep red, pulling away to catch his breath before returning to kiss Ryan slowly, savouring it. He could taste the chocolate they'd eaten, and it was even more delicious like this, in his opinion. A wave of arousal crashed over him and he could feel his whole body warming, a faint sheen of sweat forming over his skin. He felt himself growing hard and groaned into his boyfriend's mouth, biting his bottom lip gently before pushing his tongue into Ryan's mouth, his lips moving slow and steady. It was just as good as the intense kisses; different, but he liked it just the same.  


Releasing a small groan into Brendon's mouth, Ryan let himself relax into it, small shivers running up and down his spine and through his whole body, originating from Brendon's hands on his bare back, Brendon's soft lips and strong tongue in his mouth, their chests pressed together. He felt like he was going dizzy, very dizzy, almost like he'd had too much to drink, and he didn't really notice himself losing his balance and falling down to sit directly on the younger boy's groin until he hit and a sharp, hot shockwave shot through his. Their mouths dislodged and Ryan felt his own head lolling to one side, his eyes rolling into the back of his head beneath closed lips, and his hands clutched tightly, fighting to stay connected, not to lose grip of... what? He didn't even know what, and at the moment he didn't have the brain capacity to contemplate it. He might not be a teenager anymore, but at the same time it wasn't until recently he'd ever felt like one, and it wasn't like he was experienced at all. Losing his head a little was only natural. And his head didn't seem to be the only thing he'd lost control of, he realized as his hips propelled forward, already building a rhythm. But it felt so fucking good. And it helped the job, of course, his half-dead mind still hurried to supply.

"Fuck," Brendon muttered, gritting his teeth and raising his hips in time to meet Ryan's thrusts. It had been too long since they'd last-- a week was far too long for any teenager to go without this. Throwing his head back, Brendon cursed again, squeezing his eyes shut.  This was going to be over far too soon, but it felt too good to slow down. Digging his fingers into Ryan's back, Brendon lifted his head again and half opened his eyes, diving in to suck and lick at Ryan's neck. He was growing rather fond of Ryan's neck. It was smooth and long and tasted salty, but it also smelled delicious-- just like Ryan. It wasn't long at all before his hips were jerking of their own accord and he moaned loudly as he came, opening his eyes so that he could see Ryan, and biting his lip almost hard enough to draw blood. "Fuck," he said again, breathlessly.

Ryan wasn't at all sure what had changed since the first time they'd done something like this, but something definitely had. He in no way had to will himself to reach the edge. Feeling Brendon's jerks beneath him, and then opening his eyes to see dark, hooded orbs gazing back, nearly black hair rumpled and messy and sweaty, a slack jaw letting out quick, breathless pants, and that flushed face. It almost felt like it hit some perfect chord in him, and then he was shuddering through his own orgasm, fingers gripping so tightly he thought Brendon might get bruises, and his head lolling back once against as he let out an involuntary, almost mewling, sound, head still too light and breath coming in too short. He felt absolutely lax, and had to practically pull himself upright before dropping forward against Brendon's chest. "I really did miss you," he panted out, at a loss of why he was even speaking. It wasn't exactly perfect conversation time. "And not just because of this."  


Brendon chuckled between pants, ran a hand through Ryan hair and then kissed the top of his head. "Missed you, too," he murmured, and then closed his eyes with a sigh.

***

 _It has been agreed to let our capable Military Troops plan an attack however they see fit. His Majesty the King has approved General White's appeal to see the attack on DURA through. Further details will be discussed; only our Military personnel and His Majest_ y _will be included in the decisions of date and time and place._

Brendon couldn't get the words of his father's first councilman out of his mind. They were on repeat, and every time he closed his eyes, he could see the councilman's disappointed eyes, the tightening of his mouth as he was made to say these things that he didn't agree with at all. They had argued a lot today, but Brendon had known that his father had made a decision weeks ago, and that he fully supported the attack. The documents Brendon had been given at the end of the conference explained the need for war, the conflict between his own country and DURA, and what the troops were doing to prepare. Another, smaller, document had a detailed list of the military's weaponry, of their capabilities. It all made Brendon feel sick, really.

He was glad, at least, that his father hadn't asked him many questions. He had been satisfied with Brendon's clipped "I stand behind your decisions, Father," though Brendon knew it was a complete lie. He had left the castle early, saying he needed to concentrate on his studies and exams, and had been sent back to school on Friday night instead of Sunday evening. He spent most of the night reading over the documents, feeling angrier by the page. They were really going to do it. They were preparing their country for war, but only the military would know. And what if the attack back-fired? It was something that Brendon wasn't even sure he wanted to think about.  
  
Sighing, Brendon stapled the documents to a few pages of homework, a short story in the front which he'd answered a few questions on, and some old History pages covering the back. This way, at least, he could carry the document with him without raising any suspicion. Sick of reading, he placed a few schoolbooks over the document and sprawled onto his bed, covering his eyes with one hand. He heard voices outside his room, but knew that it was Zach talking to the extra bodyguard his father had sent with him. His father seemed to think that the end of the year was the time where there was the most danger. Brendon had inwardly scoffed at this, but said nothing.

***

Ryan glared at the screen in front of him. Glared. Hard. Had been doing so for the better part of an hour, but the email still hadn't changed. The computer hadn't even been decent enough to crash under the scrutiny. 

_Ross, we have been patient. And I must stress the fact that we are pleased with the progress you've made in getting close to the Prince. However, the summer break is hardly a month away, and I don't see your cover working after graduation. We need to see results, a month ago. Get on it, and give us some answers. We can't go to the peace conference in August navigating in the dark, I trust you understand that. I don't care what you have to do, do it, and show me some results._

And his fucking asshole of a director hadn't even bothered to sign it. Throwing shit in an employees face but not owning up to it. Fuck, Ryan couldn't believe he'd ever looked up to that man. Didn't they understand any of it at all? Couldn't they see that he was putting his emotions on the line, his self-image, everything? Didn't they get the fact that he had already fucking made a whore of himself for his country? That he was gagging on lies and that every day was practically a battle to push away conscious thought so that he wouldn't hate himself? And they had the fucking nerve to make the guilt trip double? Well, fuck them too.

Except not really. Ryan was too much of a stickler for rules and loyalty and everything his country was built on, and too much had come to depend on him. Just like the asshole director had reminded him, he couldn't let them go to that conference in the dark, without already knowing what to do and what to say. He didn't want war more than anyone else did, and if there was no choice he certainly didn't want DURA to lose. Which gave him no choice. Except that he didn't know how to go about it, how to get more information. Brendon was a closed book when it came to politics. He clammed up or changed the subject when anything about the council meetings he'd been attending was mentioned. He apparently didn't have the same need to confide in others that normal human beings did, and Ryan was at the end of his rope. His eyes stung, and he angrily fought back the urge to bawl like a fucking kid, but he just didn't know what the hell he was supposed to do!

He took a series of deep breaths, forcing himself to calm down, the way they'd been taught to handle panic attacks at the academy. It was nothing to be ashamed about. It happened to everyone in active duty at some point. It was better to learn how to deal with it than to scoff and be screwed when the situation arose. Except Ryan had kind of scoffed and ignored it. At least he must have picked up just enough, because his breathing was calming again and his vision had cleared of spots.

The situation wasn't nearly as bad as he was making it out to be, after all. There were still options, if only he could think of them. And all in all he had done much better than he had thought possible. He had gone farther with Brendon than he'd ever actually thought he would with someone he didn't love. Or even then. He hadn't exactly expected to ever try out whether his gag reflex still didn't exist, not least because he'd never expected a guy. He'd never expected a lot of the things they'd done. And they did talk as well, seemed to have gotten closer by the day. If only he kept them going like they had been, ever moving forward, and started to somehow fish, inconspicuously somehow. Maybe he could get more out of Brendon if he stopped being too scared to try. After all, Brendon had to trust him at least a little. And hopefully he'd be concerned about his safety as well. If things were heating up, wouldn't Brendon tell him to go back to England? Maybe even that would be enough to satisfy his boss.

It didn't seem like enough to go on, at all, just trusting Brendon to want to keep him safe rather than close, but until he figured something else out it was all he had to go on. He took another deep breath and went for a shower. According to the text from Brendon a few hours ago, he was probably already back, but at the moment Ryan was really too much of a mess to seek him out. A shower and a change of clothes would do wonders. And then he'd go over there.

***

Maybe he should have told his father that he still thought declaring war was a bad idea. Maybe he could have spoken up at the conference. He wondered if his opinions meant anything. He was going to be King, after all. Didn't they have a duty to listen to what he had to say? Didn't he have a vote? Brendon scoffed and shook his head. No, his opinion meant little right now. He was just a prince, someone who wasn't even out of high school yet. They wouldn't have listened to him. This thought, though meant to be comforting, was far from it. He sighed and squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to think about something else. Would Ryan come over soon? He hoped so. Except that thoughts of Ryan brought up more questions. Should he tell the boy? He knew that he wasn't allowed to, but wouldn't it be completely selfish not to at least warn him? These thoughts were the ones that made Brendon's heart truly ache. And he hoped to God that Ryan would be back in England before anything started. Maybe he could convince the boy to go back home, see his parents, while still not letting him know about the war.

Cursing under his breath, Brendon rolled onto his stomach and shoved his face into his pillow. He wanted to wish for better days to come, but that would be lying to himself. Wishful thinking. Complete and utter rubbish. He clenched his hands into fists, breathed into the pillow, counted the seconds ticking by. Maybe Ryan would come soon.  
  


***

Across the hall Ryan was pulling a t-shirt over his head, using his fingers to flatten his hair slightly. He was really getting to the point where a haircut was almost necessary. Rolling his eyes, happy that showers always seemed to have an almost magical ability to calm him down at least a little, he decided to forgo re-doing his makeup and exited his room, locking the door routinely behind him, before he went across the hall and knocked on the door, his heart going into his throat for just a moment when he realized Zach had made a friend and brought him along. He managed to ignore it, though, sending a small smile and otherwise not minding them at all, just like he was used to.

"Come in," Brendon called from his position on the bed, knowing that Zach had a key he could use and that his judgement could be trusted. He wouldn't be opening to door if it was anyone other than Ryan, Spencer or Jon. He heard the sound of a key unlocking before the door creaked open. Without looking up. Brendon held a hand out, obviously asking for the person-- he was pretty sure it was Ryan-- to come closer. "Hi," he muttered, his voice muffled and almost inaudible, but he couldn't bring himself to care.  
  
"Hey," Ryan answered, crossing the room and sitting down next to Brendon on the bed, his hand instinctively seeking the younger boy's. "Missed you," he added, quite unnecessarily, slowly lowering himself down onto his back and letting his free hand trace hopefully soothingly through Brendon's hair. He might have calmed down a little, but he wasn't sure he was at all in the mood to be comforting someone else. At least he'd already thought up an excuse for if his mood became obvious. "You okay?" he asked after a moment, his fingers catching in the silken tresses as he stretched out.

"Oh yeah," Brendon said sarcastically. "I'm just fucking dandy." He sighed loudly, finally turning his face to the side and out of the pillow. He'd been having trouble breathing, anyway. "Can you not talk, please?" he finally asked, sighing heavily. He pulled Ryan closer to him, letting him know that he wasn't sending him away or rejecting him-- he feared, though, that if Ryan continued talking, everything would just come spilling out. And he couldn't have that happen. It would be disastrous. Or so it had been implied. He turned a bit so that his face was near Ryan's, and tangled his own hand in the boy's hair, kissing the side of his face a few times. He felt guilty and horrible doing it, though. It wouldn't help anything. He sighed again and closed his eyes.  
  
Ryan felt a sliver of concern go through his own mind, letting his hand rub down Brendon's back. Again, he wasn't the best at comforting people, but hopefully he could help even though Brendon might be right in his concerns that speaking wouldn't really help. After all, how could it when none of them could be honest? He turned his face towards Brendon's, squeezing their laced hands, and pressed a gentle kiss against the younger boy's mouth, just slow and sweet and quite innocent, really, mouths barely open and no trace of tongue. He hoped it helped Brendon as much as it was comforting him.  


Brendon slowly managed to push everything else to the back of his mind and decided to fully turn his attention on Ryan. He pulled his boyfriend's face closer and pushed his tongue into his mouth, demanding that the kiss progress. Moving slowly, he pulled Ryan so that the boy was half on top of him, and kept urging him closer. The weight was comforting, keeping Brendon balanced. Pulling away, Brendon looked up at Ryan, a slight frown marring his features as he slipped his hands under the boy's shirt and proceeded to lift it, wordlessly telling Ryan that he wanted it off. And now. Letting the boy take care of his own shirt, Brendon then started the awkward mission of divesting of his sweater. He pulled his arms out of the sleeves, then pulled the sweater over his head carefully, throwing it onto the floor. Exhaling a shaky breath, Brendon ran his hands up Ryan's chest before lifting his head and pulling Ryan down for another kiss. He wasn't sure if he wanted what his body was demanding, but his mind kept telling him that maybe it would make things better. And he wasn't about to stop.

Something in Ryan instinctively knew that this was new, different, than what they'd done before, and somewhere in the back of his mind he was panicking, but he pushed it away, mentally telling himself it was progress as he did his best to shut his mind off. He closed his eyes and surrendered to the kiss, and as he felt his body begin to respond he focused on that with all he could. After all, it was telling him that this was incredibly nice, which was a lot better to listen to than his mind. He groaned slightly when Brendon's tongue found an extra sensitive spot in his mouth and seemed to focus on that. Fuck, his goddamn toes were curling! "God," he groaned, pulling away for air for a moment, burying his face in Brendon's neck instead. He found a spot on the collarbone that would normally be covered and locked his mouth over it, alternately licking and sucking.  


Brendon opened his eyes to stare at the ceiling, letting his hands run over Ryan's back. He moaned softly when Ryan sucked on the skin near his collarbone and slowly pushed his hands down the boy's back and let his fingers slip under the waistband of his pants. Taking a deep breath to steel himself, Brendon pressed a kiss into Ryan's hair and mumbled, "can you take these off?" very, very softly. He didn't want to scare his boyfriend away-- hell, he was almost scaring himself away-- but his body was telling him that they were ready for this, that it was time. And maybe his mind, the part that didn't think this was such a good idea, had been shut up by the arousal he felt, by the fact that his cock was getting harder by the second and he didn't think he could stand any longer. Inhaling sharply, he pushed his fingers lower, feeling the swell of Ryan's ass, and closed his eyes as he let out a soft groan. Yes, he definitely wanted this.

Ryan had to force himself not to freeze up or run away when he felt Brendon's questing fingers running over skin that no one had touched since his mom still had to change his diaper, but he couldn't hold back the sharp inhalation against Brendon's skin. He squeezed his eyes so tightly shut that bursts of colour shot across his dark lids, and he took in two deep breaths. He'd already had one panic attack today. Another one was just not on, especially since it would compromise his mission. And of course there was the fact that Brendon had absolutely no clue he wasn't the only virgin in the room. 'Not for long', some ominous voice seemed to whisper in the back of his mind and he fought it down, getting onto his knees and then proceeding off the bed. And then he stood on the floor, feeling more awkward than he ever had before, trying his very best to keep his fingers from shaking as they started to work the buckle of his belt. Luckily he was still young enough that erections came easily and persisted through almost anything, because this would so not work if he stripped only to have Brendon find him not hard at all. He took a deep breath, not letting himself think about the fact that the other boy was watching him, and got the buckle opened, a deep blush spreading over his face no matter how much he tried to conceal it. Next he worked the button and zipper undone and pulled both jeans and briefs down before he could let himself think about it. And then he stood there, awkward and erect and blushing ten different shades of red and purple, pants pooling around his ankles with not a clue what to do with himself and fighting with everything he had not to try to conceal himself.

Brendon lifted himself up onto his elbows, watching as Ryan slowly took off his belt and unbuttoned his jeans. His breath catching, he quickly sat up, coming almost face-to-groin with Ryan, and looked up at the boy briefly before letting his gaze flick back to his hands, which were now pushing down those jeans. He licked his lips, staring for a second before putting his hands on Ryan's hips and pulling him forward slightly to place a kiss on his stomach. Taking a deep breath, Brendon stood, feeling it only fair that he get himself undressed, as well. Staring at Ryan's face, Brendon worked his pants open rather quickly, pushing them down and letting them fall to the floor before kicking them away. He got rid of his boxers just as quickly, not sparing a glance at himself, instead letting his eyes roam down Ryan's body. Fighting the urge to wrap his arms around himself, he took one step closer to Ryan and leaned in to kiss him again, slowly pushing his tongue between those lips and almost desperately bringing his hands up to grip the boy's shoulders. He had no idea what to do next. Kissing was good, though. Kissing he could do.

Keeping himself from shivering was beyond difficult, but he managed to get himself to step entirely into Brendon's arms, leaning against his firm, if a little bony chest. At least that was familiar. It felt safe, and he almost didn't have to think about the fact that they were both stark naked like this. He settled his hands on the middle of Brendon's back stroking small circles mostly to calm himself down as he leaned into the kiss, opening up and silently offering whatever it was Brendon wanted. But at the same time he was remembering that he was supposed to be the experienced one, even if all his experience came from that book Tobias had sent, read with one eye closed and the other barely half-open, and that, really, he was probably expected to move this forward. But he still felt so awkward and he didn't know where to go from here and- He shut down his own protests harshly, reminding himself of the job and to think rationally. It was probably the lack of air that did it, and so he pulled out of the kiss again, once more finding his face buried in Brendon's neck as he sucked in another area, feeling a little more controlled already. Brendon should probably be the one to... after all, the younger boy probably didn't feel ready for bottoming, and Ryan didn't really know if he were up for taking charge with the coiled ball of so many things he couldn't even identify them anymore seeming to have nearly grown out of his stomach, and his hands shaking and... And well, then it wasn't a whole lot more complicated than plug A into slot B, right? Right. He took another deep breath and pulled away, walking back to the bed and lying down on his back, holding his hand out for Brendon. "You still have the massage oils in here, right?" he asked, his voice breathy and shaky, and he coughed slightly to clear it. Stupid, stupid. With all the lube and condoms back in his own room, and here they were... He didn't really feel like running through the hall without wearing so much as a pair of boxers.  


Brendon let his hands fall away when Ryan stepped away from him and watched as the other boy lay on his bed. He let his eyes slide down Ryan's body, staring at the other's boy's erection, unabashed, and then looking at his own. Well. He started at Ryan's voice, looking up quickly and feeling his face heat. "Uh... yeah," he said, scratching his head and looking around. Apparently he'd gone dumb in the last few seconds. "Yeah..." he walked over to his closet and opened the door, squatting down and reaching into the back for one of the bottles. Pulling it out, he scrunched his nose and shook his head. He didn't want to have sex smelling like chocolate. He reached in again, this time pulling out the coconut scented oil. He remembered it being the weakest of the scented oils and so closed the door and brought it back with him to the bed. He knelt on the bed, right next to Ryan's legs, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth. And now came the part where he had no clue what to do. He could imagine what he had to do, of course, but he'd never actually, physically, done it. Inhaling shakily, he looked down at Ryan with questioning eyes. "You're going to have to help me," he admitted. "I, uh-- don't really know... what to do here. I mean-- I can guess... and I've probably got a pretty good idea, but--" he cut himself off before he could stammer any more and shrugged sheepishly. He leaned down to kiss Ryan soothingly. "I don't want to screw this up," he mumbled into Ryan's lips, nipping them gently.

Ryan shuddered, sucking in a deep breath through his nose, his hand wandering to Brendon's hair for a moment. They should just stay with the kissing, and some frotting or hand jobs or even another blow job. That had in no way been anywhere close to as frightening as this was. He closed his eyes tight for a moment, though, and opened them again with more composure, breaking the kiss and sending Brendon a smile that he hoped was reassuring. "You won't," he muttered, putting more confidence into his voice than he was actually feeling. "Just..." he started, grimacing slightly and taking another deep breath before forcing himself to spread his knees and bending them until his feet were flat on the covers. "Put the oil on your fingers," he instructed, taking another breath. "And then put one in me. I'll tell you when you can put in more." And he felt so incredibly vulgar actually saying stuff like this out loud, but what choice did he have? At least he felt he could trust Brendon to be nervous enough that he'd be careful not to make it hurt too much.

"Alright," Brendon nodded, then shook his head, frowning, before nodding again. "Yeah, okay," he agreed, opening the bottle of oil and pouring some onto his fingers. He poured more than he thought necessary-- better to be over the top than under, right now. Looking down between Ryan's legs, he frowned slightly again and gestured towards his ass. "In there?" he asked, scrunching his nose a bit. "I mean... my fingers, and-- it just seems a little odd," he muttered, mostly talking to himself. It did seem odd, to be putting his fingers into someone's ass. Not sanitary and such. But surely Ryan wouldn't be-- No. He would just do this. Plenty of gay men had done it, so there must be something special about it. Shuffling over a bit so that he was now kneeling between Ryan's legs, he sat back on his heels and guided his hand forward. He brushed his thumb over Ryan's balls, then down to the crease of his ass. Without giving himself time to really think about it, Brendon pushed his finger inside Ryan's hole, just so, and then looked up at the boy, his eyes almost comically wide. "Oh, my God," he whispered, seeming almost horrified with himself. "Did that hurt?" He imagined it would. The hole was tiny, if nothing else.

"No," Ryan grunted, his eyes closing. And maybe it had, initially, but it had just been a small pang and it was gone now. He wished he could say the same about Brendon's rambling. The other boy seemed to be doing his very best to make Ryan even more nervous than he'd already been. As a result, he was pretty damn frightened by now and had to relentlessly fight his muscles to get them to just relax. Surely it wouldn't hurt as much then, would it? He hoped not. "Don't... keep it still," he instructed, hoping he wasn't giving out bad advice. Well, if he was, at least he would be the one to pay for it himself. "Move around, try to stretch a little before the next finger," he added, still keeping his eyes closed. He kind of really didn't want to look down and see what was actually going on. Feeling it was creepy enough.  


Brendon nodded absently and bit his lip in concentration, slowly moving his finger further inside. He took a deep breath before pulling it out again and pushing it back in almost immediately, his eyes flicking between Ryan's face and his finger every few seconds. He twisted his wrist a bit, moving his finger around as much as he could within the restrictions. It felt odd. His finger was enveloped by warmth, but he was still very aware that he had stuck it into someone's body. Brendon shivered and looked up at Ryan as he pushed his finger in as far as he could. "Should I put another?" he asked quietly. He didn't want to do anything without Ryan saying it was okay; it was, after all, his ass on the line. He leaned forward a bit and kissed the inside of Ryan's thigh, hoping to help him relax.

Ryan let out another shuddering breath, trying to get in tune with his body enough that he'd be able to sense what he could and couldn't take. He just felt more than a little detached at the moment, was all. "Yeah," he finally muttered, finally feeling like he was starting to get used to the foreign, invasive sensation a little. "Just... careful, all right?" He opened his eyes for a moment and waited until Brendon looked up to flash him a small, reassuring smile. He contemplated saying something about how it had been a while or something, but he got the feeling that it would kind of really ruin the mood, so he kept his mouth shut, at a loss for anything to say. "You're doing well, though," he finally settled on, deciding that he really couldn't go that wrong with reassurance.

Brendon took his finger out, then tried to get two into that hole. Frowning, he leaned forward a bit and peered down, trying to force both of his fingers to fit, but-- "It's not really..." he trailed off, shaking his head. He inserted his middle finger first, working it in and out a few times, and pushed his index finger in alongside of it, cringing slightly. He let out a relieved breath when they both slid in, though it was a tight fit. He worked both of them back and forth, twisting his wrist every few seconds. Looking up, he came face to face with Ryan's cock and, in the spur of the moment, leaned forward and ran his lips over the head, hoping to make this a bit more pleasurable. He looked up at Ryan, then, his mouth ready to close over the crown of his cock, asking for permission, even as he kept his fingers moving. Unreal really was the perfect word to describe the situation.   


Pangs of pain seemed to be shooting up and down his spine, and Ryan was back to forcing deep, regular breaths again. And then there were lips on his cock and even with the pain it was all he could do to keep his hips from jerking. He gave a small nod before letting his head fall back again, one hand moving up from his side to tangle in Brendon's hair as the pain faded to an odd mingling of pain and pleasure, which was surprisingly arousing. He didn't notice the fingers up his ass nearly as much anymore, and not in as uncomfortable a way as before. It was oddly like some kind of an internal massage, really, especially since the fit didn't feel nearly as tight anymore now as it had a few moments earlier. "Stretch," he grunted out. "Move your fingers."  


Brendon sucked Ryan's cock into his mouth, his tongue lapping at the underside as he made himself take as much as he could. Swallowing around the shaft, he relaxed his throat even as he did as Ryan told him, moving his fingers relentlessly. Closing his eyes, Brendon moved his head up and down, groaning and feeling it vibrate in his throat. When he pulled back, he licked the head, teasing the slit, before moving away fully. Maybe if he made Ryan come now he would be relaxed enough that when Brendon finally pushed into him, it wouldn't hurt as much. With this in mind, he doubled his efforts on giving a good blow job, though he was unpractised, and kept his fingers moving. So it was sloppy and he made a lot of wet sounds with his mouth; by the way Ryan's fingers kept tightening in his hair, he thought he was doing a fairly good job. At least he knew not to use his teeth. He pushed his fingers further, hoping to reach that thing he'd been told about-- (okay, so he'd researched it a few months ago)-- the prostate.

The warm, wet friction of Brendon's mouth wrapped around his cock had practically taken his mind off the fingers up his ass entirely, but when suddenly an electric shock of pure pleasure pulsed through him from the region exactly, he was violently, but not at all unpleasantly, ripped back to awareness about it. His hips bucked up with a mind of their own, then surged back down before he could choke Brendon entirely, his body suddenly attempting to get closer, closer to that source of pleasure. The fingers didn't even feel that strange anymore, almost as though his muscles seemed to have accepted it, and he realized with an embarrassed start that he was moving, just a little, up and down the fingers, trying to create more friction, trying to get a repeat of that sensation. "Do that again," he groaned out breathily, his breath coming in short pants. "And you know, another finger's probably okay."

Brendon, who had absolutely no idea exactly what he'd done, simply added another finger-- with only a bit of difficulty-- and then stretched them as far as they could go while still moving them in, but not so much out. He pulled his mouth off Ryan's cock, and instead brought his free hand up to take the hard organ and stroke it, firmly and softly all at the same time, with just a twist of his wrist, exactly the way he'd want it. Leaning forward awkwardly, he could just reach Ryan's mouth to give him a forceful kiss. It was sloppy, and he was panting too much for no reason, but making Ryan feel good, hearing him moan, was sending thrills through his body, like tiny little electrical shocks. He felt like he was going to explode.

Ryan reached out a hand and grabbed around for the tube of massage oil, because, honestly, if it was going to happen, it had to happen  _now_ , before he could work himself towards another panic attack. And then his fingers finally connected with the bottle, and he awkwardly unscrewed the lid with one hand, somehow managing to pour some out on his hand without getting it all over the whole bed. Then he pushed the bottle away again and reached in between their bodies and found Brendon's cock, starting to stroke it while he liberally spread the oil over it as well as he could while he was as preoccupied as Brendon was making him at the moment. Working between arching and moaning and gasping wasn't all that easy, but luckily, he managed to multitask. Finally satisfied with his handiwork, he pulled his hand away, reaching down to gently pull Brendon's fingers out of him. Then he broke the kiss, hardly noticing the small string of spittle that took a few seconds to burst. He met Brendon's deep, dark eyes with a serious look. "If you're sure about this, now's... really good," he finally stated, his voice breaking a little half-way through the sentence as Brendon's hand on his cock kept doing way too wonderful things to him.  


Brendon's breath caught and he nodded moving away from Ryan and looking down at him. "Uh... how do you...?" he trailed off and licked his lips, looking for the right words. He shook his head at himself before grabbing Ryan's hips with one hand and his own cock with the other. Slowly, he guided himself into Ryan's asshole, and if he'd thought that fingers were hard, then this was damn near impossible. Clenching his teeth, he looked down as he let the hand on Ryan's hips reach out and grab his thigh instead, forcing him to raise his legs and tuck them against his chest. Keeping his hand in place to help, he took a deep breath and pushed in, closing his eyes when the head of his cock slipped past the ring of muscles, "Fu-uck," he moaned through clenched teeth, then let his mouth fall open. He opened them briefly to look at Ryan, wanting to know right away if the boy was experiencing any pain. The pleasure he felt, though, was enough to have his eyes fluttering shut every few seconds. To distract himself a bit, he placed Ryan's calves on his shoulders and leaned forward, looming over his boyfriend. He really wanted to ask if he could move now, but he was out of breath, and it seemed that sex robbed him of his ability to speak.

The pain was unlike any Ryan had ever felt before, somehow sharp and blunt all at the same time. The sharpness faded quickly, but the blunt pain lingered, forcing him to screw his eyes shut over their stinging while his jaw working silently. He was trembling, but when he placed his hands on Brendon's back for some kind of support, he realized the younger boy was shaking just as much, though probably for a completely different reason. He still ran his hands up and down, fingers drawing systemless patterns while he tried his hardest to relax. "Just give me a sec," he managed, sucking in a deep breath while he hoped to God that the pain would fade soon. Otherwise he'd really, really have to put a stop to this, and that would let Brendon know that he wasn't actually as experienced as he'd let everyone believe. And if one lie unravelled, the others would follow and he'd be done for. Not that those thoughts were actually helping him relax, so he pushed them away, concentrating on his breathing, on Brendon's breath on his face, the soft, smooth, slightly perspiring skin under his fingertips. And a few moments later it didn't feel so bad anymore, and he peeled his eyes open, looking up at the other boy and letting his mouth form a soft smile. "Okay," he muttered. "Go ahead."

On Ryan's go ahead, Brendon slowly pushed his hips forward, the pleasure agonizing simply because he was going so slowly. He let out a choked moan and shut his eyes tightly, brows furrowed, and his mouth working soundlessly. He pulled out with a deep, pained breath, then let his hips snap forward again. "Oh, fuck," he cried, louder than he had wanted to. He didn't want to think about who could hear this outside of his room. Best keep quiet if he wanted to see tomorrow. Inhaling shakily, he peeled his eyes open and forced himself to set a slower pace to his thrusts, his strokes deep and long. He leaned forward to kiss Ryan, his chest pressing against the boy's thighs, and sucked on his bottom lip. He'd never felt so good in his life. Why had he waited to do this? He knew the actual answer to that, but the less logical part of his brain was telling him that he'd been waiting for Ryan. He moaned again, quietly this time, and pulled back for some air. He looked down their bodies, at his thrusting hips, and forced a shaky hand down to grip Ryan's cock. Wouldn't be very nice to forget all about him. His technique left a lot to be desired right now, that was for sure, but he hoped that it wasn't as bad as he thought it was.

After the pain had mostly died away, it was really nice enough. Still kind of like an internal massage. Pleasant, but not really that special but for the intimacy of it. Brendon was obviously enjoying it, though, so it was probably worth it, even if he was kind of jealous about the fact that the younger boy seemed to be getting about ten times more out of it than he did. The kiss was good, though. Their kisses always were. But then, suddenly, a hand enveloped in cock and at the same time Brendon seemed to shift the angle a little to give himself more room, and that did it. In less than five seconds it had gone from 'nice enough' to 'fucking spectacular!' and Ryan found himself biting down on Brendon's lip, hard enough that he thought he tasted blood, to keep from screaming with it. Pleasure seemed to singe through him, setting the blood in his veins on fire, and he was gasping for breath again, though for a completely different reason. He was suddenly understanding why it was that people were so crazy about this, even as his mind seemed to shut down, too over-sensitised to keep up while his body tried to thrust his cock farther into Brendon's hand and drive his partner's dick in farther and harder all at the same time. He was definitely not going to last long like this. "Oh, fuck, good," he babbled into Brendon's mouth, a hair's breadth away from losing his accent but managing to hold on with the tips of his fingers. "Fuck," he repeated before deepening the kiss, thrusting his tongue up nearly violently while his fingers gripped harshly at Brendon's back. And only a few moments later of the double attention had him coming harder than he thought he ever had before, shuddering through the waves as his whole body seemed to clench up, nails digging in, and he thought he might be biting Brendon again, but he wasn't really sure at all. He thought he even blacked out for a moment, but couldn't really tell, only gave another one of his dopey post orgasmic grins as he kept hanging on, waiting for Brendon to finish.

Seeing Ryan actually start to enjoy the sex-- more than enjoy, actually-- made Brendon deliriously happy. His thrusts were much faster, now, and when Ryan came he gave up all propriety and gave into the quick and short thrusts that felt so good. It wasn't long after that he was coming, his hips jerking violently against Ryan. He threw his head back, only now tuning into the sound of skin smacking together that filled the room. Once he was done coming jerkily, he let himself fall onto Ryan, dislodging the boy's legs on his shoulders. "Holy fuck," he said breathlessly, kissing Ryan's shoulder. He laid there a few seconds before rolling over so that he wasn't crushing his boyfriend, and taking Ryan's hand in his. He'd never felt more alive than he did right now, though he also felt very sleepy. He curled into Ryan's side, even now trying to control his spastic breathing, and hummed lightly. "Are you going to leave, now?" he mumbled sleepily, opening one of his eyes to peer over at Ryan. Perhaps not the best thing to say, but he wasn't about to say something as cheesy as 'was that as good for you as it was for me?' or profess undying love. That would definitely not be the right thing to do.

"Not unless you want me to," Ryan stated, moving closer and throwing a lazy arm over Brendon's damp chest, their legs tangling together. His eyelids were drooping and he really didn't feel like going anywhere. And he really had to be the biggest damn cuddler this side of the Atlantic, but it felt good, and he had a feeling that it wouldn't be long before he didn't feel good at all, so he was definitely not going to deny himself this unless he was actually kicked out. He rested his head on one of the younger boy's shoulders, letting out a whoosh of air, trying not to thing about the sticky fluids slowly dribbling out of his ass. It was like there were so many things to say, but nothing that really could or should be said, and so he settled on nothing at all, just closing his eyes and letting relaxation overtake him. At least things weren't going awkward.

"No," Brendon mumbled, smiling slightly. "Stay." And he was out like a light.

***

Ryan had hardly gotten an hour's sleep before he woke up again, his mind instantly whirling, and he knew that the fact that he wouldn't be able to fall asleep again was the least of his problems. The coil in his stomach had spread to his throat and felt like it was strangling, and he felt shitty and miserable. He couldn't believe his first time had been with someone who didn't actually know  _him_ , just a bunch of lies that formed a made up person. But the fact of the matter was that even though Brendon had had sex with his imaginary boyfriend, Ryan had had sex too, and swirling through his heart and mind and gut was a nauseating mixture of guilt and shame and regret. This wasn't how it was supposed to have been for either of them! It wasn't fucking fair. But when was life ever fair anyway. He took a deep breath, and, fuck, it actually felt like he really was going be to ill.

He carefully untangled their legs and manoeuvred out from the nest of blankets they had somehow ended up under even though he remembered being on top of them when he fell asleep. He needed to stop thinking, immediately. Thinking about this wasn't doing him any good. He just needed to get the assignment over with and then he could go home and work through what damage it had all done. Now was just not the right time.

Taking another deep breath, he sat up, swinging his feet over the side of the bed and feeling the bare soles connect with the cool floor. It actually seemed to help a bit. Grounded him, almost. He suppressed a sigh and looked around for something to distract himself with. The thoughts were more persistent than usual, and he knew he needed something to replace them with before they'd agree to go away. Silently, he made his way to his jeans and fished his cell phone out of the side pocket, turning on the soft light it gave before looking around the room.

There were a few books scattered on the coffee table, but he doubted he'd be able to concentrate on actual literature. His eyes wandered on to the desk where a stack of school books lay, a few papers placed neatly on top of it. Well, he could read Brendon's homework, couldn't he? Correct it a bit, maybe. They'd laugh about it the following morning although Brendon would be one big pout for hours. Having made his decision, he sat down and started to leaf through the papers, when suddenly something jumped out at him, and he blinked against the weak light his phone emitted. The Royal Beauregian Emblem. The first lines jumped out at him, and suddenly he knew that the assignment was done. He'd somehow actually succeeded.

 _It has been agreed to let our capable Military Troops plan an attack however they see fit. His Majesty the King has approved General White's appeal to see the attack on DURA through. Further details will be discussed; only our Military personnel and His Majest_ y _will be included in the decisions of date and time and place._


	13. Chapter 13

He immediately plopped down on the computer chair, flinching and holding back a loud groan when his ass hit the firm surface. How the hell had he not realized he was sore as all fuck earlier? He supposed his mind had been on other things too much to notice. And the observation didn't really help him much, so he pushed it to the back of his mind and glanced over at Brendon to make sure he was still asleep. And he was, like a baby. Ignoring the onslaught of guilt and focusing instead on the rising feeling of success, he focused his eyes back on the paper. The main message - that the king had let himself be swayed into starting a war - was clear enough, but everything else was incredibly vague, and Ryan might not have understood anything at all if it weren't for the fact that he'd always done exceedingly well at military strategies and movements at the academy. He was a colonel's son after all. Everyone in his father's family was military. If he hadn't understood these things family dinners would've been even more boring than they already were growing up.

And so, he put his militarily raised glasses on and looked over the two-page document and its three pages of related papers over again. 'Surprise attack' meant moving slowly, just a few troops and planes and ships at the time, maybe plan some great big troop exercises up in Virginia, as close to the border as they could get without becoming suspected. Although Beauregia was a lot smaller than DURA, for them to move their troops was a lot harder. Beauregia were incredibly touchy about their capital's safety, and so about half of their military, at all times, was in Mississippi, centred around Jackson, Louisiana, Arkansas and Alabama. Most of the rest were stationed along the Mexican border. You'd think that two Catholic scoundrel states would get along very well, but Beauregia just didn't get along very well with anyone it would seem, and during the last sixty-something years of tentative peace between DURA, they had moved on to have countless, almost constant, border scuffles with the Federalis. Moving their army and navy to a point where it could attack DURA without detection - the airforce was always a lot easier and quicker, but from what Ryan could read, it would be an all out attack, so the airforce had to wait for the rest - was a whole lot harder than it would be for DURA, who, in a bit of a paranoid move perhaps, had always had the greatest concentration of troops in California, Nevada, Utah, Colorado, Kansas, Missouri, Kentucky, West Virginia and Maryland. Basically the most people possible were stationed as close to the border as possible. New York had good enough defences, but if it fell, plans were already up for how San Fransisco could take over. It was more important to keep out a southern invasion.

All this basically meant that so long as he got this information back as quickly as possible, his country still stood a better chance. Their army was larger, their weapons and machinery generally more well-kept and newer, and they had a lot more allies. Ryan did by no means want war, but even less did he want DURA to lose one. He sucked in a deep breath, running a hand through his hair before he picked up his cellphone again, turned on the camera function and carefully took pictures of every page, cursing the fact that the bureau hadn't deemed it important to give his phone a good camera. Well, this would just have to do, wouldn't it? He thought he'd already be able to quote the whole thing anyway. Finally, casting another cautious glance over his shoulder, he sent the photos in an encrypted message and put the papers back as he'd found them before standing carefully and walking silently back to return the phone to his pocket. And then he silently crept back into bed, feeling stranger than ever as he cuddled up next to the boy who lay there. He wasn't about to get any sleep that night, but at least Brendon wouldn't wake up to wonder where he was.  


***

 

Brendon woke naked, warm and pressed against something equally naked and warm. Humming sleepily, he stretched his lips into a smile and opened his eyes, blinking a few times to get used to the light. There was Ryan beside him, his eyes open, and Brendon couldn't help himself but smile even more at the sight. "Good morning," he mumbled, carefully stretching his arms above his head. "Were you watching me sleep?" he smirked, looking down at Ryan once again, and reaching out to take one of his hands, lacing their fingers together. He'd never felt so relaxed and just-- happy as he did now. It was a foreign feeling, but one he hoped he'd get very well acquainted with. He sighed and pressed a kiss to Ryan's temple, bringing both of their hands up to stroke the side of his boyfriend's face. "I'd kiss you properly, but I really need to brush my teeth," he mumbled, then laughed. Who would have thought he'd be saying things like that?  


He was silent for a few moments, reliving the events of last night. All the worry he'd felt coming back from the castle had completely vanished- at least for now. And he certainly didn't want to think about war this morning, or for the rest of the day, or for the rest of his life. Sighing again, he smiled at Ryan and bit his lip. "You wanna take a shower?" he asked, purposely leaving out the 'with me'.

Ryan nodded, managing a small smile. His mind hadn't stopped whirling all night although his body was exhausted he hadn't slept a wink, just as he'd predicted. He gave a slight yawn and pulled himself up to a sitting position, wincing just slightly. Hopefully not enough that Brendon noticed. Then he dropped his feet to the floor and got up, holding out his hand and hoping he wasn't standing too much like a cowboy who'd been in the saddle too long.

Brendon took Ryan's hand and lead him to the washroom. He drew back the shower curtains and proceeded to make the water as hot as it could go without scalding them. "Do you... are you in any pain?" he asked softly, ushering Ryan into the shower and then stepping in after him. Drawing the curtains closed behind them, he grabbed a bottle of body soap and poured a dollop into the palm of his hand. "Want me to... wash your back?" he asked, chuckling softly and motioning for Ryan to turn around. It was the least he could do, really. Rubbing his hands together to lather the soap, he carefully placed one of them on Ryan's back and proceeded to do just what he'd asked. He hoped Ryan didn't feel weird about it-- Brendon felt like it was perfectly normal after what they'd done. What was a shower compared to sex? As he washed Ryan rather thoroughly, he hummed absently, remembering that Ryan said he'd liked his voice, and hoping to put him at ease.

"It's more just... a bit uncomfortable," Ryan answered, scrunching his nose up slightly. "And some muscles feeling a bit spent, that's all." He looked over his shoulder with a small smile, his mind finally seeming to give him a bit of a rest. And when Brendon's voice started sounding, ever so softly, he couldn't help but relax more, leaning into the hands on his back a little. It was... nice, really. He'd never thought he'd especially like sharing a shower, especially since his experience with communal showers had mostly consisted of everyone laughing at his skinniness, but it was comfortable.

All of a sudden another sound was contrasting with Brendon's humming and Ryan nearly jumped out of his skin, pulling away with an apologetic look. "That's my ringtone," he stated, biting his lip slowly and leaning in to place a quick peck on the younger boy's lips before he exited the shower and picked up a towel, hoping Brendon wouldn't mind too much, and hurried to his jeans where he extricated the phone. "Yeah?" he answered, trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice. The thoughts were back with a vengeance.

"Ross," a voice sounded on the other end, and Ryan, with only a little difficulty, recognized the speaker as Director White. "Well done, and about damn time. I need you back to report in person. The tickets have been sent to your email. Print them. Your plane leaves from Jackson at three this afternoon. Tickets to JFK will be waiting in Heathrow. Be on time."

And then there was a click, and Ryan felt stunned for a moment. He was leaving. He couldn't believe he was leaving, and he had no way of knowing whether they'd want him to return afterwards. He should feel relieved, shouldn't he? Happy even. But he didn't. He took a deep breath and let the phone drop onto Brendon's bed before walking back to the bathroom, scrabbling for some kind of an excuse. "My grandmother had a heart attack," he finally stated. "They doctors said she won't last another two days." He swallowed slightly. "I need to go back."

Brendon, who'd been distracting himself from Ryan's absence by washing his hair, turned at the sound of his voice. He dropped his hands to his sides, trying to process what Ryan had just said. "Oh," he whispered, turning away and, after standing motionless for a few seconds, started to rinse the shampoo from his hair. Once he had finished, he forced himself to look back at the boy standing in his washroom and swallowed loudly. "Okay. That's... yeah. Alright. Bye, then," he said, composing his features into that familiar mask that somehow felt unlike him now. He cleared his throat and nodded absently. Ryan should see his family, though it was awfully convenient, wasn't it? The day after they have sex, he has to leave... Brendon inhaled sharply and stepped out of the shower, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around his hips. "Well, you'd better go pack up," he said, facing away from Ryan.

"Hey," Ryan whispered, gripping Brendon's shoulders gently and turning him around. He leaned in and pecked the younger boy's nose. "It's only for a week or so, until..." He hated acting at this moment, but swallowing and blinking had to follow that sentence, or it would seem fake. "Until after the funeral," he whispered. "I... don't think I could forgive myself if I didn't go, but I  _am_  going to miss you, a lot." He took a deep breath, wrapping his arms around Brendon's frame. "And it's not bye yet," he added into the boy's hair, squeezing his shoulders gently. "You could get your driver to give me a ride to Jackson, come along. That way we'll have hours yet, and it's just for a week anyway."

Brendon took a deep breath, leaning into Ryan's embrace and wrapping his arms around the boy's waist. "Okay," he whispered, shaking his head. "Sorry, I just... Sorry for being such an idiot," he said, forcing out a chuckle. But even if Ryan said it wasn't goodbye yet, Brendon couldn't help but feel that it was, in a way. But then, he'd been gone a few times for a week, so why should he worry about Ryan leaving? He would be a lot farther, of course, but it was essentially the same thing, wasn't it? "Yeah, I'll call a driver and... do we have to leave very soon? What time do you have to be at the airport?" he pulled back a bit so that he could look at Ryan properly and pecked his lips briefly, unable to stop himself.  


"Take-off is at three," Ryan stated. "You have to be there two hours early for international flights, I think. So one," he concluded, rubbing the other boy's back firmly before leaning in and initiating another kiss, a bit of a longer one this time. He peered through the door into the clock on the wall in the main bedroom. "It's half nine now, and we're two and a half hours out of Jackson. I don't need much since I have stuff at home too, so packing won't take long, but we should probably leave in an hour." He thought a bit, dropping his forehead to Brendon's shoulder for a short moment before looking back up, decision made. "I should probably go say bye to Spencer and Jon too," he added, determining that if they didn't let him come back he wanted to at least have that closure.

Brendon nodded absently, then smirked. "Maybe we should get dressed first," he suggested, chuckling to himself. He shook his head and headed into his room, rummaging in his closet before coming out with a pair of sweat pants and a t-shirt. He considered for a moment before taking out another pair of sweats and handing them to Ryan. "You should always wear sweat pants on an aeroplane," he explained, shrugging. "They're the most comfortable." He slipped his own grey sweat pants on and tugged the bright yellow shirt over his head. "And we'll have a lot of fun waking Jon, because I really don't think he'd be up by now," he added, taking his towel and quickly drying his hair before shaking it out. If he could ignore the fact that Ryan would be leaving, this would just be another day... until Ryan actually left, that is. And then he'd be alone, and thoughts of the war would come rushing back. But for now, he kept them at bay, and smiled at Ryan every chance he had.

Ryan smiled gratefully and slipped on the sweats, tightening the string and making a small knot. It was quite a relief not to have to wear his own clothes today. "You should hang out with Jon and Spencer a bit," he advised. "They're quite good at taking your mind off things." He picked up his near-clean shirt from the day before and put it on as well before slipping his phone into the pocket of the sweats. "And yeah, these are definitely comfortable," he added. Then he flashed Brendon another smile, picked up his jeans and headed for the door. "Come on," he called over his shoulder before crossing the hall and unlocking his own room. He headed inside and pulled on a hoodie before finding a bag and throwing a single outfit as well as some socks and underpants into it before going into the bathroom and throwing as many products as he thought would look natural into it as well. Then he added his laptop and turned back around. "All done," he declared, dropping the bag on the floor and looking around the room. His eyes landed on one of the few pictures that weren't manips. On it was Ryan, perhaps twelve years old, grinning wide in a lush green park where he fed ducks with his actual grandmother. She had died a few years ago now, and Ryan still clearly remembered being devastated for weeks. He felt the corners of his mouth pull down a little, unintentionally, but he supposed it was well enough. At least it was in character.

Brendon chuckled. "That was quick," he said, following Ryan's gaze to the picture of him with what he guessed was his grandmother. Sighing, Brendon crossed the room and pulled Ryan into an embrace, holding him tightly and kissing his hair. "I'm sorry," he mumbled, not knowing what else he could say, but knowing that there wasn't much that could make things better. He took Ryan's hand and lead him out of the room, taking out his own cellphone and dialing his chauffeur's number. He told him to be waiting out back in forty-five minutes and then hung up. "I'll make sure to spend every second with them, then," he finally said in response to Ryan's advice. Kissing Ryan's cheek, he then lead the way down the hall and to Spencer and Jon's bedroom. Knocking firmly on the door, he looked back at Ryan and smiled in what he hoped was a reassuring way.

The door was opened moments later by Spencer, who still looked like he was asleep. He blinked blearily at them and frowned. "What's wrong?" he slurred, moving out of the doorway to let them in. Brendon tugged Ryan in with him, smiling at Spencer.  


"Ryan has to leave to go to a funeral," he explained, placing his arm around his boyfriend's waist. "So, he's come to say goodbye..." he trailed off, biting his lip, and took a deep breath. He really didn't want Ryan to leave. To help get his mind off of it, he turned to see Jon sprawled on his bed, still in deep sleep, and smirked. "And I thought it would be fun to wake Jon," he snickered before extracting himself from Ryan's side and walking towards Jon, crouching at his side. Licking his finger, he slowly stuck it into Jon's ear, laughing loudly when the boy shrieked and jerked away, peeling his eyes open as quickly as he could.

"What the fuck!" he exclaimed, his voice still thick with sleep. He looked at Brendon, who was still laughing, to Spencer who looked sleepily amused, and then to Ryan, who was carrying a big bag. Groaning, he fell back onto the bed and shoved a pillow on top of his head. "Go 'way," he muttered.

Ryan couldn't help but let out a small laugh even as he held onto the remembered sadness. He'd always avoided thinking about it because if he did for too long he'd end up bawling, but at the moment it was his best shot at seeming genuine. "Hey, JonJon," he muttered, smiling slightly even as he knew it didn't reach his eyes. "I'm going to England for a bit. Have fun, and take care of Brendon for me, all right?" He didn't expect anything but the initial grunt in response, so he turned around to face Spencer. "Really sorry to be waking you so early on a Saturday," he stated. "But yeah, I wanted to say bye."

"It's okay," Spencer assured, then moved to pull Ryan into a hug. Brendon watched them, smiling. Spencer had always been good at giving hugs. It was his speciality, really, and they always made people feel better. Spencer rubbed Ryan's back, then pulled away, placing his hands on Ryan's arms. "Sorry for your loss," he said sincerely, smiling sadly. He looked back at Brendon and went to sit on Jon's bed. "Get up, you lazy boy," he demanded, smacking Jon's arm and pulling the pillow away from his face. Jon groaned and huffed, but managed to open his eyes and keep them open.

"Goodbye, Ryan," he muttered, waving him off. "Sorry 'bout your loss," he added, though he did sound sincere about it, despite the tired and annoyed tone of voice. Brendon grinned widely.

Once again, suppressing a laugh was a little hard, so he let out a snigger before taking a deep breath, moving back to Brendon's side. "Thanks, both of you," he answered. "I'll see you soon. And do entertain Brendon, right," he added with another slight laugh. He leaned his head on Brendon's shoulder for a moment, blowing air out through his nose. "We should probably let you get back to sleep now," he declared before picking up his bag and grabbing Brendon's hand, preparing to pull the younger boy out with him. "Fancy a walk before the car gets here?" he asked. "I've seen surprisingly little of the grounds even after being here for months."

Brendon nodded his assent and waved to Spencer, who was already climbing back into his own bed. He shut the door behind them nodded. "Walking and holding hands," he said. "How romantic." They made their way outside and towards the forest where they had had the bonfire a few months ago. They walked in silence for most of the time, until Brendon couldn't handle it anymore and spoke in a rush. "I'm really going to miss you," he mumbled. "Even more than when I left for the castle, because you're going to be so much farther and it just... I don't know. It feels different," he finished lamely, rolling his eyes at himself. "I don't want to make you feel bad about leaving, I just... well. I've kind of grown attached to you," he smirked, though the sentiment didn't really reach his eyes at all.

"Yeah, me too," Ryan answered, giving Brendon's hand a slight squeeze. "And I'm really going to miss you too. I'd ask you to come with me, but it would be quite complicated since I only have one ticket and your father would probably ask questions." He sighed slightly. "It's going to be a week at most," he stated. "Maybe not even that long. I'll be back before you know it, all right?" He gave a small, encouraging smile and kept walking in silence. It was a comfortable silence, though, and he liked it even better than he'd liked the quiet back when he had always liked silences. He couldn't really explain it properly, but that was how he felt.

They walked back towards the school in time to see Brendon's limo pull up. The chauffeur came out and opened a door for them, taking Ryan's bag to put it in the trunk. Brendon sat, turning the TV to its usual channel, mostly out of habit, and squeezed Ryan's hand, acutely aware that it would be his last time feeling that skin in a week. But everything would be fine.

***

 

Ryan stepped out of the plane, still incredibly groggy from the nap he'd caught on the last few hours of travel. He didn't follow the throng of people to passage claim. He had his carry-on bag, and that was all the luggage he'd actually brought. The Ryan Hastings clothes he'd swapped for a suit in Heathrow were in there, as was a bit of food, his laptop and phone. He didn't really see himself needing anything more than that, especially since he expected he'd get to sleep in his own apartment for a few nights, wear his own clothes, eat his own favorite foods. It felt incredibly weird to be Ryan Ross again, almost as though the skin didn't quite fit anymore. He pushed the observation away and headed towards the reception area with long steps.

He had only made it a few feet into the reception area when an equally dark-suited body was running up, and suddenly he was being squeezed and lifted and practically swung around, letting out a small squeak as he felt his eyes grow wide. "Tobe!" he shrieked. "Put me the hell down!" And what do you know? Dropping the English accent even felt weird.

"But Ryro, I just missed you so much," the slightly older man whined. "My laundry isn't done and our dishwasher's broken, and I was  _so_  bored." He finally put Ryan down, leaving only an arm slung casually over his shoulder. Yeah, Tobias had never been more like the annoying older brother than he was now.

"Yeah, trust you to let me come home to a minor disaster," Ryan grumbled, glaring slightly before he looked farther into the hall where two other suits were standing, one with a frown on his face and the other clearly amused. Well, he supposed this wasn't really how union agents were expected to conduct themselves. He went over there, smiling slightly. "Davies, Richie," he greeted. "Good to see you again."

"And you," Davies responded while Richie grunted out something that may or may not have been a reply. "Come on," he added. "There's a car waiting for us outside."

Ryan nodded and followed them without another word, although he did exchange a few more grins and rolled eyes with his best friend.

***

 

"So to the best of your knowledge, these documents were genuine?" the director asked, a sad tone in his voice. Well, Ryan supposed that his boss was really only an asshole sometimes. At least he had a heart, unlike the generals and admirals in the room who had smirks and looks ranging from eager to satisfied on their faces. His father would probably look about the same. Ryan never had understood why so many military officers seemed to have that ingrained blood thirst

"Yes," Ryan answered confidently. "The Prince had come back from a council meeting just hours previous, and the papers were hidden, although not too well. The emblem didn't look copied either, so I see no reason to believe it was a forgery." Not least because he couldn't see any reason at all why it should be. Brendon wouldn't have fake war declarations lying about his room.

"The last paragraphs on the second page are impossible to read what with the picture quality," someone stated, looking sharply at Ryan. "Could you by any chance relay what it said?" And just as Ryan had thought he would be, he was able to quote the section word for word, managing to keep his voice emotionless and businesslike even though it had never wanted so badly to tremble.

A few minutes later a break was called, and Ryan was grateful to make his way to the fire escape and breathe in the cool, dirty air of the New York evening, hoping to calm himself down a little. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, and suddenly all he could see was Brendon's face, and all he could feel was nagging guilt and a bone deep worry. There was no doubt DURA would make a pre-emptive strike. War would be brought to Beauregia before they could bring it here, and Brendon would be right smack dab in the middle of it all. And fuck, he was just a kid, and there was Spencer and Jon to think about as well, and- Ryan calmed himself down, regulating his breathing until his heartbeat steadied out. He would be better off doing what he'd always done: take the orders from his superiors, follow them, and put his country ahead of everything else.

That conclusion didn't make him feel any better, though, and he found himself with frustrated tears welling up in his eyes. And, barely thinking before acting, he fished his cell phone out of his pocket and dialled a number he'd known by heart for as long as he could remember.

"Hello," the voice on the other end of the phone greeted. "Lauren Ross speaking." Ryan just took deep shuddering breaths and couldn't find it in himself to answer just yet. "Hello? Is anyone there?"

"Mom, yeah," Ryan answered when he thought he'd finally gotten his voice under control. "It's me, Ryan."

"Ryan, sweetheart!" his mother responded, and he could practically see her face lighting up just from the tone in her voice. "It's been so long. How are you, dear?"

"I'm just... I-" Ryan stopped and took another deep breath, his control of his voice slipping again. He was seconds away from bursting out in sobs and he couldn't even properly explain why. "I just m-missed you," he finally managed. "Wanted to hear your voice."

"I missed you too, baby boy," his mother answered, and Ryan knew that she was well aware that only his will was holding back a breakdown right at the moment. "So much," she added. "Did something happen with your assignment?"

"You could say that," Ryan muttered, sniffling slightly. "I'm too deep in it," he added, and he could hear the self-deprecation in his own voice, which meant his mother most definitely could as well. "In the academy they don't teach us that there are real people involved, that real people get hurt," he added, and he knew she would understand.

A cooing sound responded, and Ryan knew that if he were in her house right now, in her living room, she would have pulled his head down to rest on her lap, and her long fingers would be running through his hair while she murmured a lot of things that didn't necessarily make sense but made him feel better anyway. She hadn't done that since he was thirteen and had angrily told her that he was too old to be cuddled by his mom. "Ryan, my dear, dear boy," she whispered, yet he heard her voice clearly enough. "You've always loved rules and principles and our country, everything it's built on." She sighed slightly. "But I think you're finally learning that rules and principles and countries, no matter how great and good and well-meaning, can't love you back."

However crazy it sounded, he almost felt something inside himself click into place with her words. A few tears finally slipped out from under his closed lids. The puzzle was making sense. He didn't necessarily like it, but he wasn't going to lie anymore. At least not to himself. "Thanks, Mom," he muttered, taking a shuddering breath. "I'll talk to you later." And then he hung up and let himself slide down the cement wall until he was seated on the patterned steel of the staircase. He knew what he was going to do, at long last. But that didn't mean it would be easy.

***

 

He made a detour to the restroom on his way back to the meeting room, splashing cold water on his face until he thought his eyes looked less red and his face wasn't splotched enough that it was visible. He took his chair, sliding in close to the table and fixed his eyes on the papers in front of him. "I want to go back," he said over the discussion. The loud, arguing, in many cases enthusiastic voices kept on. "I want to go back," he repeated, a lot louder now.

Silence fell.

His director was looking at him sharply, and maybe the man really was a complete asshole all the time. "Negative, Ross," he stated without a second thought. "In a week it will be an open war zone. You're a field agent, not a soldier. We work with Intel, not wars. I don't want one of my agents in the middle of it."

"I know you must be planning to take the school," Ryan stated, keeping his voice calm. "The sons of the most important people in Beauregia all gathered at one place. It makes for better leverage than anything else could. But you don't know the school or the teachers and students like I do. You don't know which ones were raised military and a fanatic enough to shoot down an army and die themselves before they let themselves be taken. And you won't know how to speak to them. They  _know_  me, or they think they do. In this case, it's just as good. To them I might just be the strange new kid from England, but they're still a lot more likely to listen to me than to enemy soldiers. And ending up making a school into a slaughterhouse will not look pretty to our allies." He gripped his own knee hard under the table, forcing his voice to stay calm and rational. Otherwise they'd never agree. "Let me stay and help secure the school. I don't think any of us want to kill children in their sleep."

The UBI director opened his mouth to speak, and the look on his face clearly stated that the answer would still not be what Ryan wanted. A general managed to speak first. "Agent Ross, do you know who Jacob and Janice Walker are?" he asked.

"Obviously," Ryan answered with a tilted eyebrow. "The leader of the Beauregian resistance and his wife who doubles as second in command. Everyone with a clearance level over four knows that."

The general nodded. "Their son goes to this school," he stated. "A Jonathan Walker. Now, we really need their cooperation in this war. They know the country and the weak and strong points in ways we could never hope, and with their help we hope the conflict will last no longer than a few months. And if the political climate is still too tense for a re-absorption of Beauregia into the DURA after the war, we hope to instate Jacob Walker as their president. Obviously, having a special agent in the school specifically to protect his son should, we hope, install a certain gratefulness that could further our cooperation with them."

Ryan knew his jaw was hanging open, but he didn't have the presence of mind to pick it up. The shock was still coursing through his veins, and he absolutely couldn't believe what they were saying. Jon was the son of the rebel leaders? Jon, who was one of the Prince's best friends, who'd gone to the palace without trouble and had never spoken up about any objections to how his country was being run. Well, no wonder the boy hardly ever spoke a word about his past.

Director Winter sighed loudly, making sure everyone in the room knew he was fully against what was happening. Yet, it didn't seem he had any choice but to grit out a, "Go back to Beauregia then, Ross. Protect the Walker boy at all costs, but by God, try not to get yourself killed out there."

***

 

In the plane he looked all the papers over, and thought over the measures that had been taken long ago, when he first went to Beauregia, that were to help him be safe if he needed to make a run for it. He went it over in his mind again and again. He had until Friday. The attack would start Saturday morning. Four days left of normality now that the president had given his go ahead. By the time the plane touched down in Jackson, a solid plan was formulated in his mind.

***

 

The four days that followed felt anything  _but_  normal to Ryan. They were going through the last classes and studying before it would be time for exams, but if studying had felt pointless before, it felt imbecilic now. How could anyone be studying when war was four, three, two, one days away? Of course no one else knew, so that probably went a long way to explain it. But even though they didn't know, Ryan did, and it had him suddenly looking at everything a whole other way. He knew Brendon would probably understand the feeling, but he knew just as well that he couldn't speak a word about it. Several times he had to suppress the urge to tie the younger boy up and toss him on a plane that would take him far, far away. But again, he couldn't act any different than he had before, and if he started telling Brendon to get away, well, that would definitely get back to the king and everything would be ruined.

At least the 'death of his grandmother' went a long way to explain his absent-mindedness. If he acted weird or overly melancholy, one of the other boys would actually mouth 'grandmother' to the others as a reminder not to tease him. It was beyond weird.

He had felt tempted to go down to the designated place and check out if his gear was in order, if everything was as he'd requested before first coming here, if it was there, but he couldn't act suspicious, and so he couldn't really go wandering the grounds alone and dig up military gear. He'd just have to trust that the other agents in Beauregia, now probably being slowly pulled out, had properly done the job they'd been asked to. 

The plan was coming together nicely, and even coincidences seemed to be in his favor. Friday night Brendon was studying with Jon and Spencer in their room. Ryan had begged off, and the others had looked at him with sympathetic, understanding eyes. He was left to his own devices. And those had included the pack of sleeping pills he'd managed to smuggle with him from the drug store in Heathrow. He'd spent most of the week sucking up to Brendon's bodyguards a little so that they wouldn't be suspicious, and this evening when he went to Brendon's room with the pot of heavily drugged coffee, they didn't seem to catch onto anything at all. They thanked him with reserved smiles and set back about what they were doing, Zach apparently reading some book or another while what's-his-face went back to writing his report after both of them had poured large mugs. The cell phone on the table was what Brendon would immediately call if he was in trouble and needed help, the only condition for his going to another room without either of them, and Ryan could only hope that they wouldn't think to call the Prince once they started feeling sleepy.

He went back to his room and waited twenty minutes, changing into his most durable-looking pair of slacks and simple sandals to change out of later. And then he went back, letting out a relieved breath at the sight of both bodyguards passed out, Zach on the couch and the new one over the table. Ryan pulled out Brendon's rucksack and threw in a blanket, proper shoes, a jacket, a few changes of clothes and his candy stash and swung it over his shoulder. Then he went down the hall and knocked on the door.

***

 

Brendon had been ecstatic to see Ryan come back so soon, though saddened to see the boy so distanced. He hated that Ryan was in pain, though he forced himself to give the boy as much room as he wanted. Which included tonight. Instead of following Ryan, he had somehow managed to stay with Spencer and Jon, studying for their coming exams. When someone knocked on the door, though, he leapt up from his seat and raced to answer it. He could recognize Ryan's knock by now, that was for sure. Swinging the door open, he grinned at the boy on the other side and pulled him into a hug. "Hey, you."

Ryan forced a smile and returned the hug, leaning in to place a peck on Brendon's lips. "I hope none of you had any pressing plans for the weekend," he stated, pushing the bag into Brendon's arms. "Because we're going camping. No cell phones, no technology, but pack some clothes and blankets and we'll be off. I already asked the principal, he said it's okay, and Zach and his friend have gone ahead. They'll meet us a couple of miles out." He grinned at their flabbergasted looks. "Come on, get a move on."

"Uh..." Brendon frowned, shaking his head. Camping? They were... Ryan hadn't been feeling very well for days, and now they were going camping? Right before exams? "I'm sorry, what? Camping--"  
  
"You know we have exams, right, Ryan?" Spencer asked, coming up to stand near the couple. Jon joined them, arms folded across his chest and looking highly suspicious. "This really isn't the best time. I know you've been through a horrible thing, but-- well, I just don't think this is the answer," Spencer shook his head and blew out a breath, looking over at Brendon, who still looked confused.  
  
"Not a good idea, Ryan. I would... I would have had to check with my father and get his consent first. If he finds out about this--!" Brendon caught himself off when his voice went slightly more high pitched than was normal. He shook his head firmly. "What the hell is going on?" he finally asked after taking a few deep breaths to calm himself.  


And this was apparently when things were going to start working against him. Ryan took a deep breath, biting down on his lip. He needed to convince them, but couldn't tell them anything. The situation was much too precarious. He could burst out crying, but that would just convince them even more that they needed to stay. He needed an ally. He took a deep breath and looked up, catching Jon's eyes. The suspicion was back, and the other boy was going to catch onto him this time, he knew it. He also knew Jon well enough that he'd respect being told more than having to figure it out. "Jon," he muttered. "I really think your parents want you to go camping."

Brendon and Spencer both turned to look at Jon, wearing matching confused looks. For his part, Jon let his mouth drop open and his arms fall to his sides. "Fuck!" he finally said, shaking his head and throwing his hands up into the air. He stomped towards his closet and took out a duffel bag, starting to fill it with clothes, all the while mumbling under his breath, things like, "fifteen goddamn years, and now they decide to..." and "can't even call me or anything..."

Meanwhile, a bewildered Spencer was looking back at Ryan. "Excuse me? What is going on? Brendon? I am not leaving until I know... first of all, how do you know Jon's parents? Second of all..." he trailed off, clenching his fists and forcing himself to calm down. He looked back at Jon, then at Ryan, and finally made his way to his dresser, taking out clothes and piling it up with Jon's inside the duffel bag. "If I'm trusting you and something happens, Jon, I swear I will kill you," he whispered, the angry glint in his eyes making Jon flinch. He nodded jerkily.

Brendon had a bad feeling about this. He looked over at Ryan, his expression guarded. "I don't want you to talk to me until you're ready to tell me what's going on," he said softly, then pushed his way past the boy to make his way to his room. First a declaration of war, and now he was going to miss his exams! Fate really did hate him.

"Brendon!" Ryan called, feeling panic well up in him. "Come back and I'll explain," he added, darting after the younger boy and putting a hand on his shoulder, leaning in close enough not to be overheard. He hated that he'd be spewing more lies, now that he almost didn't have to anymore, but he didn't have a choice. "Jon's parents worked against the slavery. They were banished when Jon was little and migrated to England. They've been acquaintances of my father all along, but I had no idea about the connection before I went home, and when I realised it I immediately went to talk to them." He took a deep breath. "They want to meet him, Brendon, and it's been so bloody long. Can you imagine not seeing your parents for fourteen years? They obviously can't meet out in the open, but if we go camping with him, no one will know a thing. They didn't do anything really wrong, they just freed a couple of slaves and their family was torn apart, and just... they aren't going to hurt us. Do Jon this one favour, please?"

Brendon listened to Ryan's explanation closely, trying to decipher if the boy was lying to him or not. He didn't want Ryan to lie to him, that was the last thing he would ever want, but he had to consider it. The man inside him who had grown up doubting people at every turn was rearing his ugly head, and Brendon couldn't help but listen. Keeping his expression guarded, he turned towards Ryan, looking him in the eye for several seconds before nodding once. Clenching his teeth to keep himself from saying something, he walked back to Spencer and Jon's room, completely composed. The doubt he felt, that cynical man he really was inside, was keeping him from turning to Ryan and throwing his arms around the boy, though a big part of Brendon wanted to very much. But this was about saving himself, his feelings, and he couldn't do anything to jeopardize that right now. He was glad, at least, that he'd thought to bring his cellphone with him. Sighing, he gathered up a few papers so that he could still study. This wasn't about to keep him from passing and getting out of high school. What he was doing was illegal, and anything to keep his mind off of that was a good thing.

"Ready," Jon finally said, looking up at Ryan. Spencer nodded from his place beside him and waited for what they should do next.

Ryan nodded and sucked in a deep breath before setting off towards the back door, simply walking in silence and listening to the other three sets of footfalls to make sure they were all still following him. Once they were down the stairs he picked a small GPS up from his pocket and typed in  _buried treasure_ , only just refraining from rolling his eyes at how cliche that was. Then it was all about following the instructions on the screen, which led them to a tree a good piece of way into the grounds. He squatted down when he figured he was at the correct spot, and started digging at the ground with his bare hands. Just a few inches down his fingers bumped into something solid, and he kept working until he'd removed enough dirt to get a proper grip and haul up the airtight trunk. He automatically typed in the code on the small screen at the front, and it flopped open, revealing a plastic bag and a rather large military issue rucksack. He picked up the plastic bag first and put his hands inside, feeling around. It wasn't quite time to reveal the contents to the others yet. He pulled out solid hiking boots, and then his fingers found the familiar handle of his .56. It was incredible how reassuring it was to feel it in his hand again. He felt around a little more and found the two clips. There'd be more in the rucksack. Next came the jacket, bureau standard issue, but without the giveaway three letters on the back, making it look like just an ordinary wind breaker. He found a side pocket and slipped the gun and extra clips inside before zipping it up and pulling it out. He quickly pulled it on along with the boots, leaving his sandals on the ground. Then, with difficulty, he pulled on the rucksack and picked up the plastic bag. Revealing a bulletproof vest probably wasn't in his best interest at the moment. He took another deep breath and tossed his cellphone and GPS into the trunk before slamming it shut and turning to the others. "We're going," he stated, and started to walk.

Jon immediately set off after Ryan, which only worried Brendon more than if the boy had been suspicious and mean. He started when he felt someone take his hand, but soon realized that it was just Spencer and he shot a strained smile at his best friend. They walked in silence for some time, Jon walking right next to Ryan and the two others a few feet back, until Brendon thought the silence would suffocate him. "I want to know what the hell is going on," he whispered to Spencer, breathing hard and fast, sounding like he was on the verge of hyperventilating. He closed his eyes briefly, letting Spencer lead him along, and shook his head. "I can't fucking handle this," he added just as softly. He looked over at Spencer, who was biting his lip and staring ahead at Jon.

"I don't think Jon would bring us into a situation that would hurt us," he finally said decisively. "Breathe, Bren. We've known Jon how long now? Do you really think..." he trailed off. He didn't want to think about what was going on. He was starting to have doubts, which wasn't good, and he was so angry at Jon for millions of different reasons. For not telling them what was going on, for not telling them who his parents were... Spencer had always believed Jon to be his closest friend. He had Brendon, of course, but he'd always spent more time with Jon during his high school years, which had made them very close. Spencer could read all of Jon's moods, and sometimes even guess what he was thinking. And right now, he couldn't figure out any of it, and it was kind of scaring him. Jon just wasn't Jon right now.

Ryan was not at all oblivious to the low voices speaking behind him, but for now there was no choice but to ignore them. He looked down at his watch, squinting to see properly in the dark. An hour. He just had to keep them following for an hour. Even as little as forty minutes might work. No matter how quickly they managed to call someone with information there was no way a whole country could be steeled to defend itself from massive attack in twenty minutes. He glanced at Jon out of the corner of his eye and made sure to keep his voice very low, very soft. The others couldn't overhear. "I think you might have figured out the greater part of what's going on," he murmured, not even looking at the younger man. "And I want you to know that what's happening right now is for your own safety, all three of you. And they've known you longer, trust you more. If they stop, I'll need you to help me keep them walking." He took a deep breath. They hardly needed to defend themselves from any outside forces yet, but he preferred to know what he had to work with in advance. "Do you have any kind of training?" He knew his accent had slipped, but after what had already happened this night he didn't really think Jon would be that surprised.

Jon sighed, looking back at Spencer and Brendon for a moment before turning back. "I have an idea, but I sure as hell hope I'm wrong," he muttered, tilting his head back slightly to peer up at the sky, make it look like he wasn't talking. He didn't want Brendon and Spencer more uncomfortable than they already were. "I taught myself everything I need to know about this country, and I've seen enough of my parents' papers to know what they wanted changed... My grandfather taught me direct combat; one on one shit, and I know how to use a gun. I don't actually have any real training, though, like I'm sure you do," he sighed and shook his head, couldn't believe that his suspicion had been right all along. He might not have known prior exactly what Ryan had been up to, but it was nice to know that he hadn't been completely crazy for suspecting something. "If I'm even half right about what's going on here, though, dude, I can tell you right now that Brendon isn't going to forgive you, even if you did come back," he added, shrugging apologetically.

Something felt like it was reaching inside Ryan's stomach and scrunching his guts together painfully, and he squeezed his eyes shut tight for a moment, walking for what felt like a long while in silence. He could lie, say that it meant nothing to him, but he was done with lying now, and what would it help to pretend he didn't have feelings for Brendon? Absolutely nothing. "I know he's not," he finally stated, allowing the emotion to shine through his voice even as he still kept it soft enough so as to be inaudible from the distance Spencer and Brendon were at. "I don't expect him to, and I didn't come back to make him." He sucked in another deep breath, could hardly believe how much it hurt to admit these things. "But that doesn't mean I can't protect him." He let silence fall for another while before he'd gathered his mind enough to think about the other parts of their conversation. "Once they know what's going on, I'll give you one of the extra guns. I hope I can trust you not to shoot me in the back, because you're right, I am highly trained, and right now I think I'm your best shot at surviving without becoming a pawn in some political game, which would basically make you all prisoners."

Jon nodded slowly, taking a deep breath. He hadn't held a gun since last summer before coming back to school, but he had practised with his grandfather's various models for quite a long time. It was always like riding a bike, handling those guns; he could not hold one for a very long time, but getting back into it was easy. "For what it's worth, if you really are here to protect us, I won't shoot you in the back," he smirked bitterly. "And I kind of hope he forgives you someday. If you really are here to protect us, that is..." he trailed off, glancing back at Spencer again. "And I really hope we're getting to wherever we're going sometime soon," he muttered.  
  


"We had sex," Brendon blurted out, extra quietly. Spencer snapped his head up to look at his best friend, eye wide and mouth gaping. "I know. And now he's all..." Brendon made a frustrated sound and ran his free hand through his dark locks. "I really don't want to regret it," he finally said. Spencer thought it best to remain silent, simply squeezing Brendon's hand for support.

"Do we have food?" Jon asked quite loudly, followed quickly by his stomach grumbling. He heard a snicker from somewhere behind him and smiled, recognizing Spencer's laugh. He looked up at Ryan. "Seriously, though."

Ryan mentally went through the contents on the rucksack, trying to figure out what was where. The food was among the heavier things, and those you usually had time to pull out before needing. Which meant it was in the bottom. Which in turn meant that he'd have to get through guns and clips and hand grenades. "How about an energy bar?" he asked, reaching into the pocket in the broad strap that went over his waist to keep most of the weight of the heavy bag on his hips. He took out four, tossed one to Jon and turned around, waiting for Brendon and Spencer to catch up before offering to them as well, looking at his watch once again. Half an hour till the attack. Hopefully they wouldn't find out yet, but he didn't think it would really ruin anything if they did. Best not push his luck, though.

Brendon contemplated throwing his own energy bar over his shoulder, just to spite Ryan, but in the end he simply gave it over to Jon, who seemed to be famished. Like he hadn't eaten a huge dinner. Which he most certainly had. He watched as Spencer munched on the energy bar, and he could see that the boy was trying not to spit it out or make a face. Chuckling softly, Brendon shook his head and sighed. "Are we almost fucking... wherever?" he asked impatiently, looking around for any sign of a clearing, anything. "Because, no offense, but this is getting really boring," he added petulantly, mostly just wanting to annoy Ryan at this point. He felt childish, but he was sick of everything right now and he kind of wanted to go back to school, and he was hoping to God that his father wouldn't find out about this little escapade, and if he did, he really hoped that his mother wouldn't be concerned.

Glancing at his watch again, Ryan finished chewing the bite he had in his mouth. It wasn't particularly tasty, but he was used to the bars. He'd grown up with a father who'd thought they were perfect snacks for small boys after all. "No," he finally answered, letting the accent drop. He carefully avoided looking at Brendon. "That's going to take one hell of a while more." He reached into the plastic bag and drew out the last two pieces of content. Then he handed the extra gun to Jon and tossed Brendon the bulletproof vest. He drew in a deep breath. "In..." He looked at his watch again. "Twenty-one minutes Beauregia will be attacked by an overwhelming force. A lot of the fighting will be focused on Mississippi, so we're going to get to Arkansas as quickly as we can." He sighed slightly. "No, I'm not on your side, but I  _am_  trying to keep your asses out of the line of fire and political games. And if you'd prefer not to call me Ryan anymore, last name's Ross."

Brendon watched Jon catch the gun, completely missing the bulletproof vest that was meant for him, and quickly dropped Spencer's hand. When Ryan had finished talking, he only had time to turn around before he doubled over and threw up his dinner into the grass at his feet. He felt Spencer's hand on his back, rubbing small circles, and he shook his head, vomiting-induced tears streaking down his face as he pulled himself upright and swayed a bit. Wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt, he shook his head and coughed rather violently, his throat stinging. Right, well, obviously this was some kind of sick joke. Maybe his father was testing him. Yeah, that was exactly what was going on. He was being tested to see how he would handle an extreme situation, his father had planned this all out, he was behind everything, they weren't declaring war, and they weren't being attacked. "Oh, my God," he shook his head and laughed out loud. "This is really not funny anymore, so, come on, just drop it, right? I obviously failed. I failed!" he yelled, throwing his arms up into the air. Fuck, Ryan had seen those papers.

Spencer, now holding the bulletproof vest, was taking a few moments to process what was being said, but when Brendon yelled, he inhaled sharply and narrowed his eyes. "You tell me everything right now, Jonathan Walker!" he screeched, looming menacingly, though Jon was far from shorter. The other boy recoiled, though, and shot a desperate look at Ryan. "Both of you!" Spencer demanded. "Pretending to care for people when you don't; lying. I can't believe you," he said, addressing both Ryan and Jon, though he kept his gaze firmly locked on his roommate. Jon, in one of his better moves, decided to keep his mouth shut.

"Jon has never lied to you," Ryan muttered, still not looking at the others. "He just held some things back to protect himself." His hands were twitching and his heart seemed to have relocated to his throat. He wanted badly to go and comfort Brendon, but he knew there was no way in hell that was going to happen. He didn't say anything about himself. Starting to protest that he genuinely cared about them and that he was quite likely in love with Brendon wasn't going to help any. It was far from the right time. He sucked in a shuddering breath. "It's not a test, it's not a joke." He bit his lip and reached into the pocket of his jacket that didn't hold his gun, pulling out the UBI badge and handing it to Spencer. "I'm sorry," he stated softly. "You have no idea how sorry I am, but we need to get going."

Spencer shook his head and looked down at the badge, though he chose not to touch it. Without another glance at Ryan or Jon, he went back to Brendon. He whispered to the boy a bit, trying to make him feel better, and actually got him to put on the vest. Brendon wiped his face, still coughing a bit, and took Spencer's hand again, holding it like a lifeline. "My dad is going to fucking kill me, if I don't just get killed by this war first. Which is good, I guess. I'd have been a shitty fucking king," Brendon muttered to Spencer, who immediately told him not to say such things. They walked together towards Ryan and Jon. "Well?" Brendon finally said, looking down at his feet. Ryan hadn't defended himself, hadn't said that he did really care for Brendon, that this was just something he had to do. And now Brendon couldn't even believe that he'd ever fucking liked the guy. It was laughable, really. "I hope you had a fun time snooping around in my room," he said, clenching his teeth, his eyes flashing angrily. "I hope you had a laugh, I hope it was funny for you. I really do." He tightened his hold on Spencer's hand, drawing a small whimper, but he wasn't really paying attention to that.

It was probably the least funny thing Ryan had ever had to do, and he clenched his teeth, breathing through his nose for a moment as he fought the urge to break down. You didn't grow up with Ryan's father without learning how to keep back emotional outbreaks. He pocketed his badge. "You'd have been a better king than your father is," he stated quietly. "And I don't think I have ever despised myself more than I did when doing that." He took a deep breath, hoping to clear his head a bit. "We each have our roles in this whole thing, and I don't like betrayal more than the next person." And yet he was doing it again. His orders were to protect Jon, within the school. Not to steal away political leverage and spread his attention out over three boys. He was heading home to prison most likely, he knew that, but if the other three were safe, that would be worth it. He'd determined that already when he'd thought out the plan. "Brendon," he started with a sigh, glancing up for a moment before averting his gaze again. Looking at the younger boy was just too painful right then. "Now is not the time," he finished. "We really need to get moving."

Brendon chuckled bitterly. "Can anyone tell me why the hell I should do anything you say? Why should I even believe you? You've already lied, and you're obviously one hell of an actor if you could pretend to like me. So why should I?" he asked, tilting his head to the side and peering at Ryan expectantly. It was Jon, though, who spoke up.

"Do what he says, Brendon," he said quietly, firmly, and caught Spencer's eye. "I know it's hard right now, but for the sake of your life, and Spencer's life, would you please just do what Ryan says?" he sighed and shook his head, the gun in his hand suddenly feeling heavier than it had before. Best put that away, he thought, and stuffed it into his pocket. "You can hate Ryan all you want, hell, I'd encourage you to fucking hate him all you can, because what he did was fucking shitty; but don't question anything right now, and do as you're told. I'm sure you have a lot of experience with that in your life, which I admit isn't the best thing, but you can use it to your advantage right now." He tightened his mouth into a thin line and shrugged.

Spencer, who'd been staring at Jon, nodded and tugged on Brendon's hand. "C'mon, Brendon," he whispered, and pulled the other boy along with him.

Seeing that the others had finally started moving, Ryan did as well, putting one foot ahead of the other even as he tried to keep his thoughts in the here and now. No matter how painful that was. The rucksack was too heavy for him, really, but he needed all the things in it and he wasn't sure how much he could afford distributing into the others' luggage yet. It was odd, not being able to trust them anymore, but it was stranger for himself. It was nights like these when he really fucking wished he'd just stayed in law school. Although, if he had, it would've been someone else here, someone else who might have been doing the same things with Brendon that he had, someone else who might not have been willing, now, to give up his own freedom to keep these three safe. No, things had worked out for the best. Painful, maybe, but the best. He turned to cast a short glance at Brendon and Spencer over his shoulder.  "That part, caring about you, was the easiest," he stated truthfully, "since I never actually had to pretend. I can see why it's hard for the both of you, though." He paused and glanced quickly at Jon. "Hell, all three of you probably. But I'm not lying anymore. Ask any question and I promise to answer truthfully."

There were many questions that Brendon wanted to ask, all of them whizzing around his head, threatening to spill from his lips without his consent. He clamped his mouth shut, though, and shook his head. Asking any questions would be revealing that he actually cared, and though he had probably already shown that, he didn't want to make it worse for himself. "How long will we be walking?" he finally settled for something that he did want to know, but didn't seem very important right now. "Also, why did you give Jon a gun? Isn't that a little dangerous? He's like a toddler, for goodness sake." He shot Jon a small smile to show he was kidding, and got a grimace from Jon in return.

"We have around eighty miles till we hit Arkansas," Ryan stated. "Then we're crossing through to Missouri, which is nearly two hundred miles. How long we'll be walking depends on how many things get in our way, whether and when we can steal a car and whether we'll have to sometimes lay low for a while. Not to mention how quickly you three can walk. Ten days if you keep up incredibly well and nothing gets in the way, quicker if we get a car, or much longer if you tire easily and we have to lay low." He sighed slightly. "And I trust that Jon knows what he's doing, whereas I doubt you or Spencer have held a gun before. If we run into trouble two people armed is better than one."

"Glad to know we didn't really have any clue who Jon was," Spencer muttered sarcastically, his voice bitter. He and Brendon walked in silence for a long time before he turned to look at his friend. "Do you have any idea why DURA would suddenly be attacking, Brendon? Does it have anything to do with those conferences you attended?" he asked worriedly, the fact that Brendon and Ryan had slept together right after Brendon had come back from a conference suddenly clicking. He heard Brendon sigh loudly beside him and bit his lip, only slightly regretting the question.

"I think it has something to do with the conferences, but I'm not sure," Brendon hesitated, but answered as truthfully as he could. "Part of me still doesn't want to believe what my mind is telling me," he admitted, chuckling bitterly. It was pathetic, really. The papers had been in the room, on his desk, and though they were somewhat hidden, Ryan could have found them. Brendon had slept like a log that night, Ryan could have been awake the whole time for all he knew. And he had only himself to blame, really, for the fact that Ryan had gotten his hands on the papers. It was his fault for trusting someone he barely even knew.

There was a sudden sound in the distance, which Ryan's trained ears picked up on immediately. He looked up at the sky and it was only a minute before he saw the source. Around twenty choppers were flying past perhaps half a mile to the right, and a moment later too many fighter squadrons to properly count were passing practically straight over their heads and Ryan's heart jumped in his throat. The engine roars were deafening, the air being thrown against them stinging his cheeks. It had really started. After a moment's staring he looked away and resumed walking, ignoring the machines that were no doubt headed for Jackson, perhaps even some of the troops in the choppers for the school it seemed they had only just left behind. A part of him was very grateful that they couldn't speak over the incessant noise, and he kept walking silently even after they had passed. After several minutes he answered, without looking up, "It has everything to do with the conferences. We were hoping for peace, but if Beauregia wanted war we had no choice but to attack first."

Brendon stopped and turned around, tilting his head up to look at the military troops, his stomach clenching almost violently. He slowly started walking again, only half listening to Ryan. Were they headed towards the castle? The school? No doubt their little group would soon be declared as missing, and he had half a mind to call his father and warn him to get himself out. What would happen to his mother? Letting Spencer's hand go, Brendon pressed both of his hands against his eyes and choked out a sob. "Why should I be allowed to go hide?" he asked softly, his breath hitching. He shook his head. "I want to go back. I want to go to the castle and I want to see my mother," He took a deep breath and took out his cellphone. "I'm calling," he warned.

Ryan squeezed his eyes shut, for a moment at a complete loss of what to do. He knew that look on Brendon's face, knew he couldn't be talked out of his decision, however stupid. "You don't deserve to be caught up in that," he stated, sighing. "You can't go back, or you'd be jeopardizing Jon and Spencer as well." He breathed out through his nose, watching as the phone was raised. "You have twenty seconds to tell them what you want to say," he stated. "Longer than that and the call can be traced. After that you're throwing it away. A turned on cell phone is the easiest way to gauge our location." They'd stopped walking but Ryan was still staring straight ahead. "I'm sorry," he stated again, and he really had no idea how much he'd end up saying those words over the next long while. A lot, he guessed.

Brendon nodded once and walked away from the small group, waiting for the line to pick up. The moment he heard the voice on the other side, he broke down, though quickly composed himself enough to talk. "Mother, I need you to get out of the castle right this minute and have someone drive you to the airport. Get into a plane, get out of the country. I don't care where you go, I just need you to do this now and not ask questions. Bring dad with you, if you can, and tell him he's an ignorant asshole-- Wait, no, never mind that; just please get out of the castle as soon as possible," he took a deep breath, listening to her ask questions, her voice worried and loud, demanding. "I have to hang up now, I... take care," he said softly, then flipped the phone closed and berated himself for ending the conversation like that. Couldn't even say 'I love you' to his own mother, especially at a time like this. What was wrong with him? He slowly turned back and walked closer to Ryan, holding his cellphone out. It began ringing and he could see his mother's private number on the display. "Take it," he said firmly, turning his gaze away from the glowing numbers and closing his eyes tightly.

Holding his hand out and gripping the small device, Ryan fought down the urge to grip Brendon's hand or kiss him or hug him or do something else to comfort him. He knew it wouldn't be in any way comforting at the moment, though, so he merely took the phone, pressed the off button and threw it as far into the foliage as he could. "Anyone else brought their cell?" he asked, looking around him at the other two boys. "I'm serious, I'll tell you whatever you want to know, but anything we can be tracked by is completely unacceptable."

Jon shook his head and shrugged, looking back at Spencer, who was taking his phone out of his pocket rather sheepishly. He showed it to Ryan, then threw it in the opposite direction that the boy had thrown Brendon's cell. They resumed walking, Brendon fighting tears the whole time and trying to swallow around the tight knot in his throat. "So, who are you, anyway? Apart from being Ryan Ross, and all that shit. I'm not sure I completely understand, other than you're part of some organization or something..." he croaked out, speaking with difficulty. But Ryan had said he'd answer any questions, and truthfully. "What was I in your... mission?" he asked, scrunching his nose up at the word. It sounded like a bad Bond film.

Ryan took a deep breath and decided to answer the easiest question first. "George Ryan Ross the Third to be precise," he stated. "George is my dad's name, though, so it really kind of disturbs me to be called by it. I was born and raised in Massachusetts, only child of a colonel and his wife; military family all around. I was expected to join up after high school, but I'm not exactly soldier material, so I studied law at Harvard instead. Dropped out before my last year when I was recruited by the UBI. Went to the Academy. I'm currently the youngest agent they have." He doubted they wanted a detailed autobiography, so the overview would have to do until anyone asked further. "As to the mission..." He sucked in a deep breath, fighting the painful coiling in his stomach. What good would it do to hurt Brendon even more with the state he was already in? But at the same time he'd promised, and he really didn't want to lie anymore. "We needed to know what was going on in the council before going to the peace conference that probably won't happen now. Leadership considered you, as the youngest member, the weakest link. My orders were to find out what was going on by any means necessary." He let out the breath he'd been holding, carefully not looking that way. "I was sent back to keep Jon safe during the attack."

Brendon scoffed and shook his head in disbelief. "Well, you certainly succeeded in using any means necessary," he sneered. "I applaud you. I'm sure whoever your superior is, he's very proud." He knew he was grasping at straws, finding any means necessary to make Ryan out to be the bad guy. He was the bad guy, of course, but Brendon was starting to understand, at least a bit, that he had done all of this for his country. Would Brendon have done the same? He wasn't sure. It still made him sick to think of what Ryan had done. He hated him, and he didn't see himself forgiving Ryan, ever. It also scared him that he was perceived as the weakest link. Easily taken care of. Did his country think of him in the same way? Did they think him weak, incapable of taking over after his father? He sighed and shook his head. Well, they didn't have to worry about that any more.

Sighing, Ryan shook his head slightly, trying to clear it. His chest hurt a little, and he really wasn't sure what to say. "You don't have to help me feel bad," he finally stated, voice just a little harsh. "I do have a conscience, and don't ever delude yourself that this was easy." He raised a hand, raking his fingers through his hair. "I'm sorry," he finally stated, for the umpteenth time. "I didn't mean to snap," he relented, still making sure to look away.

Brendon clenched his fists. "I do have to make you feel bad!" he yelled, stalking right up to Ryan and staring at him intently. "I want to! I hope you feel as horrible as I do, you fucking asshole. You're not allowed feeling even a little bit happy, or content, or any other feeling apart from feeling like you should die," he looked helpless for a second, bringing his hands up to clench in his hair. "You're fucking driving me crazy! You want to know why I don't believe that you truly feel all that bad about this? Because it doesn't fucking show, Ryan. I don't see it; all I see is someone who's trying his best to be in control of a situation that could get us all fucking killed, but I don't think you're sorry at all. You did this because you wanted to, on some level, and you believed in what you were doing," he drew in a deep breath and stepped away slightly. "And if you want to prove me wrong, then you're going to have to do much more than talking."

Ryan had no idea how to respond, absolutely none. Every word felt like a punch in the gut or a knife stab in the chest. His eyes were swimming, but he forced the tears back. If he started he wasn't going to stop. At the last words a bitter laugh bubbled up in his throat and escaped before he could stop it. "What the fucking hell would you have me do then?" he asked, his voice as bitter as the laugh, but steady. "I could kiss you, but besides the fact that three people would immediately punch me in the face, I don't see you believing that either. I could be back in New York right now, watching all this shit happen on the news, but I'm not, goddammit. I'm trying to keep you safe, disobeying direct orders to stay on school grounds so you can't be dangled in your parent's faces as a political prisoner, and once I've gotten you out I'm headed straight for fucking military prison, so what the hell does it matter anyway? What would an eighteen-year-old prince want with a twenty-three-year-old future convict in any case?" He sucked in a deep breath, pulling his own hair hard to calm down before walking around Brendon and stalking on along the paths he'd memorized from various maps over the week. "We have quite a bit of distance to cover before setting camp at daybreak. Come on!"

He'd seen the tears in Ryan's eyes; how could he have missed them? Oddly enough, though, it didn't make him feel any better. In fact, it made him feel worse, made the knot in his throat tighten and expand. He followed Ryan without another word, knowing that Spencer and Jon were behind him, whispering to each other. Well, at least Spencer had forgiven Jon, or so it seemed. They had been friends for a long time, and so it was probably easier to forgive. And Jon hadn't really done anything wrong, just held back some information that could potentially be harmful. Brendon sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. This situation was unreal.

***

The eastern horizon was turning grey, and Ryan's back was aching from the rucksack when he decided it would probably be best to stop now, get something to eat and sleep through the day before going on when the sun set. "We're stopping," he informed tonelessly, looking around him. A little off the barely-used track there was a small clearing, and he could hear the drizzle of a stream nearby. It would definitely work. He walked over and hoisted off the rucksack, giving a small sigh of relief when it hit the ground. He might be built to be able to easily handle long hikes, but sure as hell not for the backpacks.

He unbuckled the lightweight tent from the top of it. It was made for one person, but he had the idea that if he used the hunting knife in the bag to cut it up, he would be able to make some sort of a shelter that could house them all. Next came the sleeping bag, and then he could open the bag. He winced slightly at the weapons and first aid kit that was the first things to come into view, and tried to use his back to shield those from sight as much as possible to avoid freaking the others out even more. Then he dug under it and pulled up the Trangia and a bottle of methylated spirit. And then his fingers reached the food. There was enough to last him for fourteen days, which meant it should sustain four of them for about five days, maybe a week if he stretched it. After that they'd have to find some other way. After a moment he tugged out a few portion bags of rice and a can of some kind of meat stew. It would have to be enough for now. He looked up at the other three. "Jon, could you take one of the pots from the Trangia and go down to the stream for water, please? Keep the gun with you."

Jon nodded, taking a pot before heading off, following the sound of running water. Spencer watched him go, a sad look on his face, and then shook his head gently. "Anything I can do?" he asked sullenly, looking down at all the supplies Ryan had pulled out. One tent. One sleeping bag. He had obviously not been supposed to be bringing other people along with him. Glancing back, Spencer spotted Brendon a few meters away, sitting cross-legged in the grass with his head in his hands. As much has he wanted to comfort his friend, he didn't think there was much that he could say that would make things right. He sighed heavily and shoved his hands into his pockets before looking back at Ryan. He wanted to feel useful, and hoped Ryan found something for him to do before he went insane.

Ryan glanced up to see Spencer's expectant look and was about to smile on impulse before he remembered that it probably wasn't the greatest idea. He didn't feel like smiling anyway, but was used to doing it in spite of that. But he didn't have to anymore and the expression melted off his face before it had fully formed. "Here," he murmured. "Let me teach you how to put this together." He did his best not to glance over at Brendon while he opened one of the spirit bottles and poured it into the small contained of the tiny portable stove. Then he stacked the dispenser on top, twisting it to make it secure. "Not so hard, huh?" he muttered, not waiting for an answer. He reached into a side pocket of the bag and pulled out a lighter and a small container of liquid. "Once Jon gets back, turn it on and set the water to boil. Pour two drops of this in it, it cleans the water." He stretched and got back to his feet. "I'm going to try to make a shelter out of the tent."

Spencer nodded, sitting down next to the small stove and looking out the way Jon had left. When the boy came back, he set to work doing what Ryan had told him, chatting with Jon about nothing in particular; anything to get his mind off of the current situation. He avoided looking back at Brendon; they both did.

Grabbing the tent from where he had discarded it on the ground, Ryan threw the thing a few feet farther away before bending down to close his rucksack, hiding the dangerous contents after he'd taken out the knife. Then he walked to where the tent had landed, opened the holster and pulling the tent and sticks out. He laid out the tent on the ground, quickly getting an idea of its shape, and then he sat down on his knees and gripped hold of it and started to cut up the seams. With the tent being as small as it was, it didn't take very long. He then set about securing one side of it to the ground with the pegs and used the wires and sticks to get it a few feet off the ground in the other end. It wasn't much, but it was the best he could do with the materials at hand, and it would keep them slightly warmer than just sleeping outside would. He glanced over at Jon and Spencer to gauge their process and deemed that they seemed to be doing it somewhat right even if their movements betrayed the fact that they didn't really know what they were doing. He went back to the rucksack and picked up the sleeping bag before taking a deep breath and walking over to where Brendon was seated, pushing it into the boy's arms. "Go take a nap," he suggested. "We'll wake you when the food is done, and this might all be a little easier to handle once you've gotten some sleep."

Brendon, though he knew he wouldn't be able to catch any sleep, slipped into the sleeping bag, making sure it went way over his head. He felt like a mummy. As he lay there on the rather uncomfortable ground, he listened to the sounds the others were making, just a few soft words and some footsteps here and there. He could hear an owl hoot somewhere not too far off, and something small skitter across the forest. He sighed heavily and closed his eyes, forcing himself to take deep breaths and relax. Only now did he remember that Ryan had said he was 23 years old, and probably heading to prison. The second part made his heart clench, and the first made him shake his head in disbelief. He looked too young to be even 18; it was odd to think of him as older. Turning a bit, Brendon blew out a breath and looked up through the top of his sleeping bag. He was facing the camp and so could see Spencer crouched down, and then Jon's feet and legs right next to him. He smiled softly. Well, if nothing else, at least his friends were here.


	14. Chapter 14

The meal, after they'd woken Brendon up, was more strained and uncomfortable than anything the four had ever shared. And there wasn't food enough although it was the kind of quantity Ryan, had he been on his own, would have been expected to eat during a whole day. He had made sure the others didn't watch as he took his serving, didn't want them asking why he was making it be only half the size of theirs. They didn't need to know that their food supply wasn't bottomless. Besides, he wasn't really hungry.  
  
Once he finished he put Jon in charge and got up himself to walk a large circle around the campsite, making sure the area was secure. It was nice to be alone for a bit, get away from the oppressing presence of the others now that they knew his actual identity. At the same time he still just tried his very hardest to keep from thinking about everything, but it wasn't exactly easy. And he could only stretch the surveillance so far before they'd start to wonder where he was. With a sigh, he returned to where Jon and Spencer seemed to have at least thought far enough ahead to wash what little dishes they had made. Brendon still looked the worse for wear, and something in Ryan just wouldn't stop clenching whenever he looked at him. So he made sure not to do it too much. "You three get some sleep," Ryan said softly. "I'll take first watch."  
  
Brendon had picked at his food, mostly, taken a few bites and then discovered that eating made him want to throw up. He'd grimaced and spooned his serving into the other two's bowls, but the sick feeling lingered long after they retired. He curled up close to Spencer, and though he could hear the boy snore softly, he couldn't seem to manage getting to sleep himself. Not surprising, really, when he thought about everything that had happened. He was still worried about his mother, and he hated not being in charge of a situation. Not only was this little excursion completely out of his control, but there was an attack going on that he knew nothing about. He squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep, shuddering breath, quickly wiping a tear that had slipped down his cheek and was making its way into his hair. It wasn't far from being the right time to cry, of all the moments in his life, but it certainly wouldn't be cautious to do it with the other three right next to him. Holding his breath, he listened, trying to see if he could hear them all breathing peacefully. When he was satisfied that he could (though Spencer's snoring might have been the only thing he could really hear), he carefully slipped away, looking down at the ground to make sure not to walk on any twigs or anything else that would make too much noise. He didn't walk far, of course, but he leaned against a tree, out of view, and tilted his head back against it, letting his eyes close again. He wasn't ashamed of the tears that followed. He was angry with himself, though, about the whole Ryan situation. And embarrassed, and regretting the last few months. It didn't sit well that he hadn't seen through the boy's disguise. He had, literally, failed everyone he loved, not to mention his country.

Ryan, still on watch, had heard someone get up and walk a little distance away, but he recognized the sound and rhythm of Brendon's footsteps almost immediately and kept his eyes straight ahead instead of watching where Brendon was going. The younger boy must've not heard it when Ryan informed them he was taking the watch, which meant he would obviously still be awake, but he couldn't exactly blame the Prince for being absent-minded. Ryan shuddered slightly at the thought of going through what Brendon had been through this night. It was all bad enough from Ryan's viewpoint. He couldn't even imagine what it must be like for the younger boy. He kept listening to the footsteps until they stopped, still close enough that Ryan could easily intervene if something happened, and satisfied with that, he decided to leave Brendon be for now. The Prince, Ryan imagined, needed a little time alone. And no matter how much he itched to comfort the younger boy, he knew he'd only make things worse.

Quite a while passed, and Ryan's eyes were starting to droop. He was finally beginning to feel the effects of being awake for well over a day after a week of very unstable sleep. He knew he should wake up Jon soon to take over for a few hours before Ryan couldn't stay awake anymore and left them unguarded. And he really should remind Brendon not to go too far and to keep his ears open. And definitely to get some sleep. Well, maybe he needn't actually wake Jon yet. Ryan got up with a slight yawn and crossed the clearing, making sure he made enough sound that the younger boy would know someone was coming. "Brendon," he murmured when he was just a few feet away. "If you could keep watch for a few hours, that would be good. Wake Jon when you want to sleep." He took a deep breath and turned around to walk away. Hopefully at least feeling like he was doing something to help the little group would help Brendon feel less helpless. Ryan could only hope.

Brendon had nodded dully, and let himself slump down to sit at the base of the tree. He found that he wasn't tired; his mind, at least, was fully alert, even if his legs and arms and back ached with fatigue. Wiping his face with the sleeves of his sweater, he peered through the trees around him, but didn't see anything, or even hear much more than the soft wind in the trees. He wondered when the others would wake. How far they had come from the school? Had his mother followed his instructions? Was the castle now destroyed? Would they kill all the workers, as well? He sighed and scrubbed a hand over their face. He just hoped that they wouldn't think to attack Grace cottage. It was famous, of course, but only in the surrounding areas. Nothing like the castle, that was for sure. And it was his mother's favourite place in the world. If everything fell apart, hopefully she would at least have her sanctuary... Leaning his head against the tree trunk, Brendon looked up at its leaves, swaying gently. He watched the clouds move, listened to the faint sound of running water. He concentrated fully on breathing evenly and strained his ears to make sure he caught every sound around him. He could even hear Spencer's soft snoring if he held his breath. The near silence was perfect for thinking, or would have been if Brendon hadn't wanted to close off all his thoughts. As it was, every sound was deafening, which he was somewhat thankful for. At least he was helping in some way.  


Falling asleep, Ryan realised, was difficult. His body was heavy with fatigue and his eyes wouldn't stay open, but every time he had almost drifted off his imagination would take over and he'd think he'd heard someone shout, or a shot, or Brendon screaming. The most painful thing had to be when he'd fallen asleep for just a few minutes and dreamt that none of this had happened, that they were back at the school and everything was as it had been just a week or two ago, only he wasn't lying or pretending. He had never been Ryan Hastings, they hadn't all just liked someone who didn't exist, they had liked  _him_. And then he woke up and scoffed at the impossibility and the stupid, hopeful cheesiness of it. He was a grown man, and childish fantasies shouldn't have room in his life anymore.

After a few hours of restless tossing and turning and perhaps fifteen minutes of sleep all together, he woke up with a parched mouth, so dry his tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth and tasting like something that shouldn't even exist. He knew there was absolutely no way he'd fall asleep as thirsty as he was, and so he crept out from under the blankets - Spencer's, he believed - and crawled on hands and knees out of the shelter, groaning and stretching before reaching one hand down to pat his pocket, checking that the gun was still in place. He went to the rucksack without looking Brendon's way, and picked up the water purifier and the single mug they'd all had to share. A minute later he was crouched over the narrow, small stream, his mug dipping down and coming up full to the brim of dirty, brown liquid that could barely pass for water. He made a face and poured in a single drop before holding his nose to numb the taste, and pouring it all down his throat, gagging slightly. The purifier made the water harmless, but it didn't take away the taste. Finally a little satisfied, he turned around and walked back, stopping when he was next to Brendon. "If you want a break, I don't think I can sleep anyway," he stated softly. "Just let me have a piss first." He gave a wry, not at all happy grin, and headed towards the other side of the clearing.

Brendon did  _not_  watch Ryan as he walked away, and neither did he stare at him for half a second as he obviously went about his business. Sniffing and turning his head to look in the opposite direction, Brendon rolled his eyes. He didn't need to sleep, he didn't want to sleep, and he didn't need or want Ryan wandering around while he was trying not to think. Running a hand through his hair, Brendon shifted a bit and pulled his knees up, wrapping his arms around them. The ground was hard beneath his ass, and he could feel himself starting to go numb. The bark from the tree scratched his back, even through the big sweater, he was dirty, probably smelled, and entirely too uncomfortable to be seen by others, even if two of them were close friends. A Prince should never be seen like this, he thought. But then again, he doubted that he still held power over the country, and so could no longer be called a Prince. And if that little thought caused him great relief, it was only because he would no longer be tarnishing the Royal name. It had nothing to do with the fact that Brendon hadn't wanted to be Prince for a while, now.  


Ryan went back across the campsite and sat down some ten feet or so away from Brendon, still carefully refraining from looking at the younger boy. "We're going to be walking all night," he stated, still keeping his voice soft so as not to wake Jon and Spencer. "You need to be rested at least a little." He knew that applied to him as well and that maybe it was a little hypocritical of him to tell Brendon to do something he'd already concluded he wouldn't manage very well himself. At least he was better trained. He glanced carefully towards the trail they had walked by, looking through the foliage in search of any threat. There was nothing. "Once Jon and Spencer get up you should get him to teach you both how to hold and shoot a gun," he muttered, feeling a slight chill down his stomach. Brendon really shouldn't have to ever touch a gun, but at the same time Ryan, more than anything, wanted the younger boy to survive. "If we get in a bad situation it might be good to be able to defend yourself. I can only do so much. Especially if something happens to me. I'd prefer it if you could still survive, all of you, if I get hurt."

"I'm not tired,"  _I don't want to touch a gun, I don't want you hurt, I don't want any of this._  Brendon shook his head, staring out in front of him for a few seconds before bravely turning his gaze to look at Ryan. The other boy didn't look like he'd gotten very much sleep, either. Brendon looked down at his knees, finding himself unable to look at Ryan for too long. It just hurt too much, which scared him more than anything. He wanted to rewind his life and go back to when he'd been blissfully unaware. He wanted to be able to look at Ryan again. He really wanted to be able to touch him, and he wanted to taste him, and hold him, and talk to him again. Really talk to him. He looked back at Ryan after a moment. He'd been so happy when they'd had sex. That meant something about their relationship, didn't it? After that night, when he had woken to Ryan beside him, he had thought that there would be many mornings just like that one to come. It hurt him that he'd been so wrong, it hurt that Ryan had lied, and it hurt that he would never feel close to Ryan ever again. He doubted he could even stand being the boy-- man's-- friend. Brendon sighed and closed his eyes briefly before opening them to look at Ryan again, forcing himself not to turn away. A few meters away, he could hear Jon and Spencer begin to wake up.

Ryan sighed, deciding not to argue about it. "You probably won't believe me," he muttered after a while, quite sure that Jon and Spencer still weren't capable of overhearing anything he had to say. He wasn't really sure why he was saying anything. Speaking about the issues could easily make everything harder and it wasn't strictly necessary to speak at all. But something told him he shouldn't keep it too quiet, for Brendon's sake as much as his own. "But I never wanted this. I don't want a war, I didn't want to lie to you or use you or hurt you. I'm sorry, and I wish I could say I regretted it, but I don't, for several reasons. I don't want my country attacked anymore than you do yours, but I guess the main reason is that some of my best memories are from these last months." He looked away to hide the slight blush staining his cheeks and caught sight of the other two approaching. "I'm going to go do... something," he finished, grimacing. He couldn't believe how awkward he was being. But then again, Ryan Ross had always been awkward. Ryan Hastings just hadn't and he'd gotten too used to that. Biting his lip, he quickly got to his feet and went to his bag to start sorting through things, move some to be more easily accessible and, well, whatever else he could come up with to make himself scarce.

Brendon didn't get the chance to reply, though he doubted that he'd have had anything to say to Ryan, anyway. He sighed and tightened his arms around his knees, watching as Jon and Spencer made their way closer. Their clothes and hair were mussed from sleep and both were wearing the adorable expression of someone who had just woken up. They each took a seat beside Brendon and he smiled softly. "I'm sorry," he finally muttered after a few seconds in silence which Spencer and Jon spent stretching and rubbing their eyes. "I hate that this is all basically my fault and that you two were caught up in it..." he trailed off, averting his eyes. He felt someone put their arms around him and turned slightly to see Spencer's head on his shoulder. Jon smiled and wrapped his arms around Brendon on the opposite side, sighing into his neck.  
  
"S'not your fault," Spencer mumbled. He didn't like seeing Brendon like this, and he knew that the boy would blame himself for this for a long time. But Brendon hadn't chosen to be born into the Royal Family, and he hadn't chosen to go to the conference and take the papers. These things were his responsibility, just like Ryan's responsibility had been to find those papers. Brendon hadn't ordered the attack-- in fact, Spencer was quite certain he'd been against it-- and he hadn't chosen to feel whatever it was that he felt-- love, like-- for Ryan. These things were mostly out of their control. And if Ryan hadn't found the papers, would he still have been lying to Brendon? The alternative to their leaving Jackson wasn't much better, in his opinion. But Spencer kept quiet for now, simply holding onto his friend.  


Ryan felt a lump forming in his throat at the sight of the others in his peripheral vision. It wasn't the same kind of guilt as it had been before, but he wasn't sure this was that much better. They wouldn't have had to be in this situation if it weren't for him. Brendon wouldn't have had to go through all this if not for Ryan, and God, did he feel like a fucking bastard for it! To make it even worse, he felt pathetic. He missed Tobe, he missed his mother. Absolutely pathetic. But he still couldn't help feeling even more alone when he looked at the three younger boys. He swallowed painfully and looked back at the job at hand. Biting down on his bottom lip nearly hard enough to draw blood to keep himself under some kind of control, he picked up two extra clips to attach to his belt, following by the gun holster he'd neglected to tie on earlier. He took a deep breath and pulled out two of the small hand grenades, placing them in his jacket pocket while he hoped intently that he wouldn't have to ever use them. He had nothing against guns, except their use on other people. He'd always enjoyed target practice and shooting with blanks, but he hated how real the weapons felt just then. Hand grenades and bombs... those he'd always hated. But he'd do what he had to do. After another bit of rummaging he pulled out a silencer, and with that in hand he walked cautiously towards the three younger males. He didn't want to pull them out of comforting each other, but he also knew that it was too dangerous to forget about the situation they were in. And Brendon and Spencer needed to be able to protect themselves at least a little as soon as possible. He took a deep breath and held out the silencer. "Jon," he said softly, wincing slightly at having to break the three apart. "Put this on the gun and help Brendon and Spencer get in some practice. We can't have them helpless."

Jon winced as Brendon stiffened in his arms, and he shot Ryan a glare even though he knew the boy-- man?-- was right. He didn't want his friends to be without protection, whatever their situation. Sighing, he took the silencer offered and unwrapped himself from around Brendon so that he could stand. Taking out the gun, he popped the silencer on with a little twist and motioned for the other two to follow his lead. "He's right," he muttered, inhaling rather shakily. "As much as I don't like the idea, I don't want you two to be caught unprotected." He walked a ways away, aware that Spencer and Brendon were following closely, and that they were holding hands. When he turned around, it was to explain to them how to hold a gun steady, how to fire, and how to aim. It was all very basic, but he hoped it would do the trick. When he let them try the gun on their own, though, he cringed at Brendon's shaky hands and Spencer's horrible aim. Both of them hesitated before firing, which was not a good sign. In a life or death situation, it was the worst thing someone could do. Biting his lip, Jon tried his best to help them, but to little or no avail.

Ryan winced from where he was standing slightly behind the others, looking on the progress, or lack of same. "Don't hesitate," he instructed briskly, shutting all emotions out of his voice. They weren't good when teaching anything. "Hesitating for just one second means the opponent gets first shot, which could easily mean you die, or someone with you does." He drew in a deep breath, narrowing his eyes as he looked at both Spencer and Brendon, trying to gauge the problem. "Spencer, keep both eyes open or you take away most of your own depth perception. Closing one eye for better aim is a myth. Brendon..." He sighed slightly, pausing for a moment to think. "You need to stop thinking about what happens if you shoot and start thinking about what happens if you don't. And watch the backlash." He took the second silencer out of his pocket and screwed it onto the gun from his belt. "You don't have to kill just because you shoot. See that tree over there?" He nodded his head, indicating a tree about fifty yards away. "The one that kind of looks like a person?" He took another deep breath, aimed, and fired four bullets in quick succession, hitting each of the two side branches and twice by the base of the trunk. "Now he can't pick up his gun or move in pursuit of us. He's still very much alive, though, and in a couple of months he'll be as good as new, but right now he can't harm us. See the point?"   


Brendon, who'd been flinching at the sound of his and Spencer's gun shots, had to firmly restrain himself from sticking his fingers in his ears when Ryan shot off four one right after the other. As it was, he raised a hand close to his head and recoiled a bit, turning his face away. Right. How did he expect to get anywhere when he was scared of such a thing? The gun wasn't even close to being aimed at him. He did like, though, that he didn't have to kill. But since his aim was completely off, who was to say that instead of getting someone in the arm, he wouldn't get them in the chest? Sighing wearily, he tried his hand at it once more, shooting at a tree and hitting a lower branch. Exhaling deeply, he quickly passed the gun on to Spencer and watched his progress, still flinching at the sound of gun fire.

***

When darkness had fallen Ryan still hadn't had the guts - or the heart, really - to give the last extra guns to Brendon and Spencer. Brendon was likely to not shoot at all, but be seen as much more of a threat because he was visibly armed, and Spencer might be willing and able to pull the trigger, but he was also about as likely to hit one of them as do any damage to any opponent. If anything happened, Ryan and Jon would just have to deal with it as best as they could. He'd considered giving them hand grenades since neither of them threw balls too badly from what he remembered from PE, but he thought they might just hesitate that second too long, and it wouldn't be an enemy exploding.

It was completely dark now, and by Ryan's calculations they'd walked maybe somewhere around twelve miles already, which was evident in Spencer's huffing breath and Brendon's dragging feet. Jon didn't seem too well off either, and Ryan himself was really starting to feel that he hadn't gotten nearly as much physical exercise these last few months as he was used to. He'd need to check the maps soon too, and he could still hear the sound of the stream a little off the track. When they left it he couldn't be sure when exactly they'd find water again, and since he only had two bottles to carry any in, they should probably get those filled and get something themselves as well before going any further. "Break time," he murmured, halting and looking at the others while he fumbled in his pant pocket for a moment before picking up the small bottle of cleanser. "We need to get something to drink, and something to bring with us. I think we need to change directions a bit soon."

Jon nodded in agreement, then turned around to see Spencer and Brendon were holding hands. Again. His gaze flickered over the laced fingers before he quickly looked away. It seemed that every time he turned around, they were having some kind of moment. He narrowed his eyes slightly and clenched his jaw, then caught himself and relaxed. What was wrong with him? Spencer was obviously lending some support, and he was getting angry? Jon shook his head and dismissed it as him being tired. He then turned to Ryan. "Anything I can do?" he asked.

"D'you think he was just saying that, or...?" Before Ryan's announcement that they were stopping, Brendon had been telling Spencer about Ryan apologizing. Spencer had nodded thoughtfully, fighting a smile the whole time. He did, of course, believe that Ryan had meant it when he had apologized, and he told Brendon this. Brendon blew out a breath, shaking his head slightly. "I think this is going to be one of those instances when you want to forgive someone for what they did, but you don't know how. And I don't..." he trailed off and licked his lips. "At least not yet," he added, shrugging. He had never known before now how hard it was to forgive someone. Mentions of 'forgive and you shall be forgiven' that he'd heard many times while growing up and attending church suddenly seemed much more challenging than he'd ever thought before. He found, in that moment, a new kind of respect for those who could forgive easily. He was a bit jealous, as well, though.  
  
Ryan bit his lip as he thought the situation through. Then he carefully unstrapped his rucksack and put it on the ground. "There are bottles in the upper left side pocket. If you could take Brendon and go fill them and clean the water..." He winced slightly, not liking to leave the prince under anyone's supervision but his own, but he assumed Brendon would appreciate the distance. "I'll look over the maps and watch out for Spencer. Drink what you guys need to. Spencer and I will empty the bottles when you return and then we'll refill and possibly ration until we find another creek or stream." He paused slightly, looking the younger male in the eye. "Get him back in one piece, all right?"

Jon smiled reassuringly and nodded. He took both bottles from Ryan and then waited until Brendon was at his side before setting off towards the sound of water. Spencer, who had watched them go, now sauntered over to Ryan as nonchalantly as he could. "So..." he said, staring idly at a tree to Ryan's left. He had his hands behind his back and was rocking on the balls of his feet. "So, had a little chat with Brendon?" he asked innocently, swatting at a mosquito. He had a smile playing on his lips as he waited for the answer, and could hear Brendon and Jon's voices in the distance. He knew Brendon would have a hard time with Ryan for the next few weeks, months, and maybe years. Who knew? But Spencer was determined to see the good in people, always had been, and he knew that Ryan wasn't the bastard he'd appeared to be only yesterday. He thought the best course of action was to just talk to the boy as normally as he could. He'd obviously failed just now, but he was too excited by the prospect of Brendon forgiving Ryan and there being love all around. He almost snorted at this thought, though. When had he become to optimistic and sappy?  
  
At the feel of the blush washing over his face, Ryan was more than just a little grateful for the darkness that hid his exact coloring, and probably outline too, from Spencer's probing eyes. "I guess I did," he answered, just as softly. "I'm pretty sure you've already gotten the summary, though," he added, bending down and digging into another side pocket to bring out the maps. He spread them out on the grass and turned the flashlight he'd had hanging from his belt on, grateful his blush had apparently gone down. Slowly, he calculated the distance they had walked, grateful he'd always had a knack for that kind of thing. "We should be somewhere around... here," he finally stated, putting his finger down on one point on the map, looking up at the other boy through the bangs that still habitually hung in his face. "So, Spencer Smith. What do you know about navigation?"

Spencer smirked at Ryan's answer, shaking his head. When Ryan got the map out and pointed out where they should be, Spencer shrugged uncomfortably. "I'm... horrid at Geography," he admitted, scrunching up his nose. One of the only subjects he wasn't very good at, and it was a bit of a sore spot. "But I'll help in any way I can?" he offered, looking hopeful. He could see Brendon and Jon coming back, now, and Jon was smiling a bit as Brendon muttered something too softly for Spencer to hear. He grinned at both of them and was surprised to see Jon's face light up before he looked away briefly and smiled back.  
  
"Water's delicious," Jon said, only a bit sarcastically, and winked at Spencer.  
  
Ryan gave Spencer a small smile. "No need to worry," he assured. "Geography was one of my better subjects." Well, everything but PE had been one of his better subjects, but he needn't mention that. "See, I already told you where we are." He pointed at another spot on the map. "That's where we need to go. So it's pretty simple, really. We set a nearer destination and then we find the best way on the hiker's map I have right here." He nodded at a still folded map next to the one they were looking at. "Not much Geography, really. Just logic and a bit of math." He took a breath, noting his parched mouth, and looked over his shoulder at Jon and Brendon. "I know it tastes awful, but can I please have a bottle?"

Jon chuckled and handed his bottle over to Ryan, while Brendon gave Spencer his. Spencer, who was busy nodding his understanding at Ryan's explanation and studying the map, only took notice of the bottle being proffered when Brendon hit him lightly on the arm with it. "That sounds pretty easy," Spencer agreed. When he looked up, it was only to notice Brendon's tired face and that his eyes looked like they were surrounded by light bruises. He frowned, wondering why the hell he hadn't noticed before, and brought a hand up to swipe his thumb right under Brendon's eye, as if that would help him. "Christ, Brendon," he muttered, more to himself than anything. "Did you get any sleep?" he chided, shaking his head and sighing. "You know, you're only punishing yourself," he shook his head, disappointed.  
  
Brendon drew back at Spencer's words, glaring angrily. "It's none of your business," he spat, looking away and clenching his jaw. Spencer could see a muscle near his temple twitch. "And for your information, I just couldn't sleep," he finished stubbornly, folding his arms across his chest defensively. Spencer merely sighed again and ran a hand through his hair, knowing that there was nothing else he could say.  
  
"We have a few hours left till sunrise," Ryan stated, taking a deep gulp of water and grimacing at the taste. "Unless someone literally collapses we keep going until then. I'll take first and fourth watch. Jon second, Spencer third." He sighed slightly. "Brendon, I want you in your blankets the whole day. You aren't doing anyone any good otherwise." He knew it was harsh and that it would probably raise the boy's hackles to be ordered around, but there weren't a lot of other ways. Brendon looked beyond exhausted, and hadn't been trained to going with two hours' sleep for days on end the way Ryan had. If he didn't have enough sense to sleep on his own, he would have to be encouraged, frail sensibilities or no. Ryan looked up at the sky for a moment, taking another drink before turning his eyes back on Spencer. "See any good routes on the hiker's map?"

Spencer, who'd also been greedily gulping down water as he surveyed the second map, nodded absently. He pointed to a trail that was right ahead of them, turning slightly to the left, and shrugged. He didn't know these forests well enough to judge with any sureness, but it seemed to be the easiest and most efficient way. He chanced a look up at Brendon and winced at the murderous look on the boy's face, but was happy that he'd restrained himself from talking. It seemed, though, that no matter what Ryan said, he was doomed to anger Brendon. Spencer didn't think it very fair, but when had life ever been fair? And, Ryan hadn't been very fair to Brendon, either, after all.  _What goes around, comes around_ , he thought the clichéd phrase bitterly, taking another drink of water.  
  
"Looks good," Ryan stated in agreement, purposely ignoring the fuming anger on Brendon's face. The boy already hated him, so Ryan would rather anger him than have him keel over because he wasn't getting any sleep. "Now, Spencer and I will go refill the water. Brendon and Jon, you two rest your legs for a little, and then we're going onwards."

***

Ryan was startled out of his sleep sometime in the early afternoon, during Spencer's shift, he thought, by a frantic thumping on the top of the shelter. He was out of his sleeping bag in the blink of an eye, giving Jon, who was next to him, a shove in the hopes that that would bring him around as well. Then he quickly crawled out of the shelter, blinking the sleep out of his eyes as he got to his feet, turning to ask Spencer what the problem was. He needn't ask, though, since he was hearing voices from not at all very far away. DURA, judging by their accents. Ryan's heart seemed to jump into his throat, thumping madly in the blink of an eye. He might have been battle trained to some degree, but he'd never been in an actual fight and had hoped not ever to be. But he'd also planned for all eventualities and he wasn't all that surprised. He picked up his rucksack as silently as he possibly could. "We need to get out of here," he whispered, as silently as he could, turning towards the shelter to check if the others were coming out yet. They'd have to abandon it, and the blankets too, but if that was the price to pay to avoid direct combat, he was more than willing.

Jon had been annoyed for being woken up, at first, but realized when Ryan made his way out of the shelter that there was something wrong. He stilled and, listening, was alarmed to hear voices that he definitely did not recognize. Crawling out, he crouched down to wake Brendon, who looked like he had finally fallen into a restless sleep mere hours ago, if that. As quietly as he could, he approached Ryan after informing Brendon to be silent. "We're leaving everything here?" he breathed out, catching Spencer's eye. It would be unfortunate to leave everything, but he wasn't worried about that just now. When Brendon joined them, he looked, perhaps, even more terrified than everyone else. Jon couldn't blame him, really.  
  
"Won't they hear us?" Brendon asked, his voice only betraying a bit of his panic. He wiped his hands on his pants, because they had become sweaty and had a bit of dirt on them from when he'd pushed himself up off the ground. He listened to the voices, wondering if they were getting closer, of it that was just him.  
  
"Not if you're silent," Ryan bit back in a low whisper. He regretted the snap in his tone a moment later, but now wasn't the time to take it back. "We need to get well away before they notice the shelter," he added. "Come on, now!" He guided the others in front of him, keeping the rear as they moved towards the deeper parts of the under brush. He could still feel his blood thumping madly through his veins, the beat resounding in his ears as he urged the others on. More quickly, more silently, and all the while he kept trying to hold onto his own calm so the younger three wouldn't panic.

They were just about behind cover when Ryan heard yells and looked back over his shoulder to see that a few soldiers had broken through to the clearing they'd been camping in. They'd be spotted in seconds, and there was no way they would be able to outrun trained soldiers. Ryan dropped his bag immediately, drawing his gun out of his belt while his other hand fumbled in his pocket for the hand grenades, just to be on the safe side. Then there was yet another shout, and the young agent immediately followed the voice with his eyes, seeing first the gun and then following the aim in the man's gaze, something seeming to burst in him when he realized Brendon was the target. Without another thought or any actual sound he set into motion before the trigger had even been pulled, shoving the prince to the side as quickly as he was able before he started to duck himself, just as he heard the snap of the gun being fired. He was a fraction of a second too late, and he knew it immediately.

Never before in his life had he known pain as he did when white-hot agony bit into his left shoulder, leaving him breathless and unbalanced. Somehow he managed to keep standing while his training finally kicked in and he fired his gun again and again in quick succession, barely even watching as he dropped to his knees behind the trunk of a tree. He hoped the others had found some kind of cover, but he really didn't have time to check. White spots were bleeding into his field of vision and bullets seemed to be raining around him, biting into the tree trunk or going past him. He watched, but barely registered, as two of his countrymen fell, and then all he heard were empty clicks when his gun emptied. The pain was growing rather than lessening and he was starting to feel light-headed and he needed this over with, and so he went to his last resort, hastily putting his gun back in the belt holster while he reached with his bad arm for the opposite pocket, adrenaline overriding the excruciating pain as he pulled up one of the hand grenades, quickly changing hands. He pulled off the safety and threw it towards where the soldiers were, dropping flat to the ground.

Moments later the explosion was heard, leaving a roar in his ears that wouldn't seem to leave. His left hand was sticky and his vision swam, but the pain seemed to have gone away behind the adrenaline. His breath was coming in quick pants as he got up. "Jon, get the rucksack!" he ordered briskly, hoping to God he'd gotten all the opponents and that they hadn't had a chance to call base beforehand. "There's a farmstead half a mile from here. We need to get a car and get out of here!" He reached up with his right hand, clasping the wound to stop the flow of blood as he started off, staggering slightly until he found his rhythm. They needed to get this place far behind them before looking at the first aid box, and Ryan didn't know how much longer he'd be able to run on endorphins alone.

Jon did as he was told, putting his gun away and slightly angry at himself for only having shot three times and hit one person. He grabbed the bag and hurried after Ryan, not thinking to spare a glance at the other two.   
  
Spencer, who'd huddled behind a tree, quickly walked towards Brendon, who was crouched down, head hidden in his arms. It was a miracle he hadn't been shot, really. He hadn't even known that the shot had been meant for him until he heard it and turned around to see Ryan step in and take the bullet. It had been like a movie in slow motion, and Brendon had stumbled down, in the exact spot he now found himself. He knew that he was shaking like a leaf, and the moment Spencer touched his shoulder, he crumbled, covering his face with his hands and shaking his head violently. "C'mon, Bren, we need to move. You can do this later, okay? Please, Brendon," Spencer pleaded, looking back towards Jon and Ryan. He winced at Ryan's staggering steps. "If we don't move, Ryan is going to lose a lot of blood, alright?" He wasn't sure if any of this had gotten through until Brendon took a shuddering breath and slowly took his hands away from his tear-streaked face. His eyes were brimming with tears and bloodshot; he looked horrible. Taking his hand, Spencer lead him quickly to follow the other two, fighting tears himself. When had his life become so dangerous?  
  
Ryan never knew how he had managed to walk more than half a mile with a hole in his shoulder, but when a haze of time had passed, they stepped out through the trees and he could see the farm buildings up ahead; house, barn, some kind of a stable. And in the driveway, a battered, old-looking jeep. "I hope at least one of you knows how to drive a car," he gritted out through his teeth, words coming interspersed by heavy breaths. He still felt faint and his lungs still seemed to be on overdrive.

Jon glanced over at Ryan before he nodded, confirming that he could indeed drive. He was happy that his grandfather had started giving him lessons when he'd been thirteen. Sparing a glance behind him, he felt his heart clench at the look at Brendon's face. He was glad, though, that Spencer seemed to be taking care of him, because if Jon were forced to choose, he would take care of Ryan's wound first. Sighing heavily, he picked up speed as they approached the jeep, then looked back at Ryan questioningly. "Should we get you fixed up first?" he asked. He didn't like the sight of blood seeping through Ryan's shirt and fingers.

"We need to get some distance away before that," Ryan answered, his voice tight and pinched. He followed Jon, soon overtaking even though his steps were uneven and badly balanced by now. Moments later, ducking so not as to be seen from the house, he reached the car doors, relieved to find them unlocked, and opened it with his good hand. To his disappointment the key wasn't in the lock, and he resorted to kicking some panelling off until the wiring became visible. Getting the hunting knife out of a pant pocket with some difficulty, he leaned forward and nearly keeled over before he managed to cut and connect the right wires, mostly one-handed. And then the car started up with a roar of the engine. He quickly scooted over into the passenger's seat, not bothering to strap himself in, and waited for the others to follow. "North east," he instructed, his voice a little faint as he finally lent back into his seat, closing his eyes for a moment. "Get us ten miles away and then stop."

Jon jumped into the driver's seat, watching in the rear view mirror as Spencer and Brendon got into the pick-up's trunk. Pulling the stick into drive, he pressed onto the gas pedal and quickly turned the wheel so that he could follow Ryan's instructions. He could faintly hear the house door banging open and he accelerated, pulling away from the house as quickly as he could. "Alright," he said, breathing a sigh in relief. "Alright," he said again, adrenaline flowing through his veins.  
  
His hair whipping in the wind, Brendon sat himself in a corner of the trunk, closest to the front of the truck, and pulled his knees in close to his chest. He hid his face in his arms and relaxed only slightly when Spencer put an arm around him. He felt as though he couldn't quite think, only feel the fear that had paralyzed him and the guilt gnawing at his stomach. He shivered, hoping that this would end sooner than later. He didn't know if he could handle much more than this. He didn't want to, and he didn't care if that was selfish.  
  
The road passed as a blur to Ryan and those ten miles felt like ten thousand. The adrenaline rush was wearing off, and by now he could feel the pain again, worse than it had been before. It felt like a hot fire starting in his shoulder and stabbing all the way through that side of his body, no matter how much he gritted his teeth and closed his eyes against it. Finally he determined that they'd moved far enough and directed Jon to turn onto a dirt path leading in the right direction. The bumps in the road made his body jump and bumble and every movement sent a new shock wave of pain through his whole body, so strong that he could hardly think through it. When they were finally a fair bit of way off the main road, Ryan called for a halt. "There's some bad field surgery equipment in the box," Ryan informed, his head lolling. "I need you to find it and get the bullet out of me, then bandage it up really fucking tightly. If there're some Aspirins there I wouldn't say no either..." His voice was becoming slurred and he wasn't sure he was saying the right words anymore, could only hope that Jon had gotten the message.

Jon nodded once, trying not to show that he had no idea how he would get a fucking bullet out of Ryan's shoulder. He looked through the back window at Spencer, locked eyes with him, and was grateful when the other boy nodded. Spencer was opening Ryan's door in a matter of seconds, pulling himself in and forcing Ryan to lean against him. Jon, busy going through Ryan's supply bag, took out all the tools he would need, smiling slightly when he spotted a bottle of pain killers. He handed the bottle to Spencer, who grabbed one of the water bottles and gave Ryan four pills. Jon cringed as he peeled back Ryan's shirt, turning him slightly to peer over his shoulder hopefully, but he pulled back moments later. "No exit wound," he muttered, defeated. He would definitely have to get this thing out on his own. "I don't know what I'm doing," Jon said, shaking his head, panic seeping through his voice.  
  
Great. Apparently Jon had gotten all kinds of training except the medical bit. Ryan inwardly groaned and bit his lip, trying to keep his swimming head afloat. "Tongs," he slurred, head lolling back against Spencer's shoulder. "Should be tongs in there." He opened his mouth obediently and swallowed the pills, already couldn't wait for just the faint sensation of numbness they might be able to afford him. "And scalpel..." he winced at the word, groaning slightly. Shit like this shouldn't happen without anaesthesia. "If it's stuck."

Jon nodded, taking out both items. He leaned in close, taking in the wound and glad to see that the bullet had lodged itself in the joint of Ryan's shoulder, and that it wasn't very deep. He carefully did what he thought was right, cringing when he had to open the wound a bit more with the scalpel. It was scary how easily it cut through layers of skin. Breathing shakily, he gripped the tongs and managed to carefully pull out the bullet within ten minutes. "It might get infected if that stays open," he said quietly, holding the bloody bullet in one hand and pressing material against the wound. "Do we have a needle and some thread?"  
  
Ryan groaned at the question, his cheeks feeling incredibly wet after these last minutes. It felt like someone had gripped his arm and just pulled until it came off. On the other hand, that might not have hurt as much. "Yeah," he got out, his voice hushed and choked and gravelly. "And disinfectant," he added, grimacing at the mere thought of either. "Same box, further down," he directed, closing his eyes again and letting his breath out in short, rhythmic huffs. If he focused enough on breathing right perhaps it would take some of the pain away. As it was, he wanted nothing more than to sleep, and he was pretty sure that with the amount of blood he'd lost that was the best idea anyway, but at the same time he had no idea how to sleep through the pain. "There's morphine as well," he added. "Give me a shot at some point, please. I think I really need to sleep."

Jon, one thing at a time, decided to start with the morphine. Luckily, they were equipped with a tourniquet and clean needles, the morphine clearly labeled in a tiny, dark brown bottle. Getting Spencer to wrap the tourniquet tightly around Ryan's arm, right above his elbow, Jon stuck the needle into the little bottle through an even tinier hole, then pulled the plunger back and watched the syringe fill. Pulling it out, he set the bottle aside before flicking the syringe with his thumb and then pushing in the plunger a bit, watching as liquid spurted from the needle. Satisfied, Jon looked down at Ryan's arm, which was already quite veiny, and stuck the needle into the biggest vein on the inside of his elbow without warning. Pushing the plunger in all the way, he really hoped that this would work in taking away the pain and helping Ryan sleep. When his heart calmed, the blood flow would be slower, which was always good when one had an open wound. Grabbing the disinfectant, he cleaned the wound as thoroughly as possible before taking up the needle and thread. His grandmother, bless her, and spent most of his childhood sewing and Jon was proud at this moment to say that he'd picked up a few things. "There we go," he said when he was done, breathing a sigh of relief.  
  
Completely hazy, and on the very verge of sleep now, Ryan managed a faint smile even though his body was completely numb. "Thank you," he muttered, and then he was fast asleep.

***  


Brendon woke at some point during the night, and was in the same position he'd been when falling asleep, his knees tucked to his chest. He looked around and spotted Jon and Spencer who were also in the back of the truck with him, clearly having given Ryan the front seat to sleep on. He sighed softly, images of Jon sewing Ryan shut flashing through his mind. He was proud of his friend, but a bit angry at himself for not having helped at all. He pushed himself up a bit more and peered around him. There wasn't much to see and he couldn't hear any water, no matter how much he strained. Sitting back, he bit his lip and thought back to the previous afternoon, closing his eyes tightly as he remembered. He hadn't expected the bullet, and he'd expected even less that Ryan would do such a thing as jump in front of it. Would he have done the same? he wondered, but was too scared of the answer to think about it much more than that. Suffice it to say that Ryan had surprised him. Frightened him-- but surprised him more than anything else.

Ryan awoke to a throbbing pain in his shoulder, and at first he couldn't remember a thing about what had caused it, but then the recollections came back and he gave a slight groan as he came to completely, hungry and thirsty and positively aching all over. He still felt dizzy and light-headed, but whether that was caused by the blood loss or the amount of pain medication he had taken he couldn't tell. He found the medical kit discarded on the other seat and reached out to open it one-handed, shimming through it until he came across the sling he'd been looking for. Clutching it in his hand, he managed to get the door open and stumble out into the fresh night air. They should be on the move now, should be... They had the car. If they drove for just an hour in a while they'd make it just as far, if not further, than they would've been able to on foot. And it wasn't the top priority right at the moment. At least everyone was hopefully slightly rested by now. "Hey," he murmured when he spotted Brendon awake, feeling more than a little bad for disturbing the boy. But he knew from experience that sometimes being pulled out of your thoughts was sometimes far from a bad thing. "Could you give me a hand with the sling?" he asked with a slight grimace. "And maybe help make some food. I'm sure the others will be starving once they wake."

Brendon looked up as Ryan exited the car, stumbling a bit, and then nodded absently. He jumped out of the back of the truck and walked over to Ryan, doing as requested and helping getting his wounded arm into the sling. Once the deed was done, he stood motionless for a few seconds, unblinking and staring at Ryan. "I'm sorry you were hurt because of me," he said finally, his voice no higher than a whisper. Looking away, he shifted his weight from one foot to the other and ran a hand through his hair. "What would you like me to do?" he asked wearily, grabbing the bag of supplies from the front seat and rummaging through it as he waited for Ryan's answer. 

"We need to get the trangia started," Ryan stated. "And then probably get some canned food. Rice or mashed potatoes won't work with no water." He drew a breath, gazing at Brendon intently for a moment before looking away. "If you could hand me another couple of painkillers that'd be much appreciated too. And Brendon... I wasn't hurt because of you. I could've chosen to let you fend for yourself, but I didn't. My choice, not yours. So don't blame yourself." He smiled wryly, steadfastly ignoring the pain from his shoulder. "I can take it," he stated, doing his best not to sound cocky, but not knowing if it worked. Even if he did, he was sure that after the whimpering he had been doing while Jon fixed him up would make any cockiness sound as nothing more than a joke.

Brendon sighed as he fished around for the bottle of painkillers, shaking his head lightly. "They were aiming for me," he argued, looking back up once he'd found the bottle. "This whole-- thing is basically my fault," he continued, voice firm as he stared at Ryan reproachfully.  He popped the cap off the medicine and took out four, then looked around a bit before spotting the water bottles in the front seat of the truck. Only one had any water, he noticed, as he snatched it up and gave Ryan the pills, followed by the water. Next, he took out the apparatus he'd seen Spencer and Ryan fiddling with before and lifted it up for Ryan to see. "This thing?" he asked, frowning at it a bit. He didn't know a thing about cooking, he realized, and wondered if he'd be more damage than help.   
  
"Unless you're the one who wanted a war, and the one who signed the commands to prepare an attack, this is no more your fault than Spencer's. You're not to blame, and definitely not half as much as me." Ryan sighed slightly, shaking his head and popping the pills, followed by a small gulp of water before he capped the bottle again and set it down. "You're a good-intentioned young man with hardly half the influence he's made out to have, and who got caught up in circumstances bigger than him and bigger than anyone should be asked to handle." He looked down at the tiny stove, nodding. "That thing," he concurred with a small smile. "Just find two cans of something you think you'll like, get them opened and dump them in the pot, then I'll help you light the Trangia. It's not that hard. The food's already been made. All you have to do is stir while it heats."

Brendon stared at Ryan a bit quizzically, his head tilted to the side. "You know only old people call me a 'young man', right?" he asked, snickering slightly before catching himself and stopping. He licked his lips and averted his eyes to look through the supplies again. There was a can of stew, which he took out proudly. Stew always filled people up. He held it up to show Ryan, then thrust the bag forward a bit. "You want to choose something? You  _are_  the one with a bullet wound," he mumbled, and found himself blushing for no apparent reason. Clearing his throat, he looked away briefly, firmly telling himself to get himself under control before looking back again.  
  
"There's another can of stew," Ryan stated with a small smile, politely failing to mention anything about Brendon's new colouring. "I think stew is probably what goes best with stew. Or the carrots and peas. Your choice." Then he sighed, returning to more serious matters. "I'm not sure people can be raised the way you were and go through what you are and still be considered a boy," he said. "My best friend is nearly two years older than me and you're one hell of a lot more mature than he will probably ever be." He shrugged. "I guess some people just don't get to have a very long childhood. It's sad as fuck, but it's the way of the world." He looked away, feeling his eyes cloud with emotions for a moment. He guessed that in an entirely different way he belonged in that category just as much as Brendon did.

Brendon scrunched his nose in disgust at the mention of peas, instead opting for the second can of stew. He nodded hesitantly at Ryan's explanation, looking down at the cans in his hands, and feeling his stomach clench. It was suddenly and seemingly out of nowhere, causing Brendon's breath to hitch, and when it was over, he scowled. "Um," he hesitated, then drew himself up confidently. "What do you want me to do, then? I'll need instructions if we don't want this stew burnt and disgusting," he said, his voice playful and yet somehow still all-business. "We'll probably need more water soon, right?" he then asked, remembering that they only had one half-full bottle.  
  
"When the others wake and we've eaten, I hope we can drive for a while, at least until we find some water, and hopefully farther. I really don't want this 'camping trip' lasting longer than it has to," Ryan answered, and set about explaining how to light the device. He bit his lip slightly. "You'll have to speak with Jon and Spencer soon, decide whether you want to go anon and be shipped to a refugee camp like other people who've made it across the border or if you want to go public about who you are. The second option would make it much easier for your parents and anyone else to know you're alive, but it would also give you some diplomatic difficulties that I don't have the gifts to get you out of." Not that he'd likely be around at that point anyway, but he wasn't exactly keen on thinking too much about that. "Remember to stir hard and quick enough that it won't burn on the bottom," he reminded, leaning back against the wheel of the truck.

Brendon did as he was told, all the while thinking about what Ryan had said. At some point, Spencer and Jon had woken and were now sitting close to them, talking quietly. Brendon sighed as he stirred with more force than was necessary, despite Ryan's earlier warning. The stew, once done, smelled delicious and tasted just as good, thankfully. Brendon couldn't help but feel proud that he'd made it. Well, he'd heated it up without burning it, in any case. He took a bite and then stared at Ryan for a moment, thinking of what he wanted to say. "Won't I be recognized, anyway?" he asked quietly, after a few moments of silence. He saw Spencer and Jon look up from the corner of his eye, looking interested. "I mean, isn't there any danger of that, even if I do..." he trailed off. "And if I do declare myself publicly, won't I also get diplomatic immunity? Or..." he trailed off again, slightly frustrated. Was he still Prince? Did he hold any power at all? But he didn't dare ask those questions out loud.  
  
"You should," Ryan stated. "And if you endure the media circus to make your presence completely public, no one could rebuff you without an international outcry. My country might not be big on royalty, but we  _are_  allied with people like England who would definitely take offence to a prince being treated as anything but a prince." He shrugged slightly. "But then again, I can't look into the future. And I think that if you did your best to look a little ragged, maybe did something about your hair and took to wearing glasses or something, you might be able to blend in. But it's your choice." He shrugged again, taking another spoonful of the small portion of stew he'd given himself. He still didn't want to take food out of the mouths of the others, and even though he hoped the rations would last them, he still didn't want to take chances, which was why they were four people to two one-person meals. He swallowed the bite, smiling slightly. "It's good," he commented

Brendon nodded slowly, thinking this over. Did he want to go into a refugee camp? Or could he take a risk and just be himself, hoping for the best the whole way? He looked around at Spencer and Jon as he took a bite of the stew, humming in content. "Will Jon and Spencer be allowed to stay with me if they know I'm a Beauregard?" he asked softly, and knew that this would probably be one of the answers that clinched his decisions. And then a thought came to him. "If my father has been killed, doesn't that make me king? And if I am, couldn't I organize a conference and try to talk to DURA? Settle some of our differences?" he asked hopefully, his eyes wide and bright.  
  
"It's an option," Ryan agreed. "But we have no way of knowing if he's dead or alive, so you probably shouldn't consider that option too much." He thought slightly, going through his long-buried legal knowledge from way back when before the academy. "Jon, to appease his parents, will probably be allowed to do whatever the hell he wants," he mused. "If he chooses to go public as well, that is. You, with diplomatic immunity and everyone trying to please Jon should secure Spencer wherever you want him to be." He shrugged, taking another slow bite of stew. It filled more if he ate it slowly. "You'd probably be courting the media the whole way through, though. It'll be far from a vacation."

Brendon scoffed, looking at Ryan as he'd grown an extra head. "Do you think dealing with the media is new to me?" he asked, his tone biting. He rolled his eyes and shook his head. "And don't think they've all been very nice to me, either. I know when someone is being polite because they have to, and when someone is just genuinely nice." he finished, taking another bite of the stew. He was glad, though, that Spencer and Jon would be safe. Taking refuge was the farthest thing from his mind, now. "Will Jon get to see his parents, then?" he asked, and suddenly realized that Spencer also had parents. A father who spent a lot of the time in the castle, as a matter of fact, and the castle had no doubt been under attack. He cringed, his heart jumping to his throat. He didn't feel much for the fact that his father might be dead. The man had never really held him or been fatherly in any way. He was scared, though, for his mother, for Spencer's family, and for all of the workers in the castle who didn't deserve death. Shuddering, he quickly took another bite and looked down. Why did things always have to go pear-shaped?  


"Not first thing," Ryan answered, deciding to diplomatically ignore the first comment. "From what I know, they're still in Beauregia too, probably working with our..." He cut himself off, at a loss for a moment of how to describe his countrymen. They weren't 'our people'. Ryan wasn't really on their side anymore. He was somewhere in between, still loyal to his country but working to protect the children of the enemy, actually fighting both sides. "The DURA soldiers," he concluded. "Once this is all over, I guess I don't see why not, but it's not really up to me." When this was all over, nothing was going to be up to him anymore, but he did not want to think about the looming threat of imprisonment, and so he determinedly pushed the thought away, going back to his food as he closed his eyes slightly, head leaning against the tire. His shoulder didn't hurt so much anymore now that the painkillers had kicked in, but a dully throbbing ache still remained, and he was tired again.

Spencer and Brendon both wore the same confused look. Spencer nudged Jon gently with his elbow, causing the boy, who had been steadfastly not looking up, the peer at him. "What do your parents really have to do with all of this, Jon?" he asked, trying to make his question sound as innocent as he could. Jon cleared his throat and shrugged uncomfortably.  
  
"It's a long story," he finally settled on saying. "But basically they've been fighting against the way our country is run for a very long time, and they're very involved with DURA..." he trailed off bitterly, hoping this wouldn't change his friendship with neither Spencer nor Brendon. "It's a long story," he repeated, "and one I can tell you once this is all over, alright?" he asked, sighing slightly. He really didn't feel like getting into all the details. He loved his country, and he loved his parents. He wasn't ashamed of what they did, but it would be hard to explain it to people like Brendon and Spencer. Luckily, instead of pushing the subject, Spencer simply nodded and smiled slightly. "Anyway, we should probably start driving soon. The sooner we find water, the better. And I'm anxious to get as far away from Jackson as possible," he added before eating the last mouthful of stew.

Ryan decided not to add what he knew to the conversation, quite sure that Jon would rather handle that one on his own. "I'm anxious to get you three out of Beauregia as quickly as possible. It'll probably only be days now until the countryside will be crawling with soldiers, and I don't really want to be here for that." He sucked in a breath and quickly downed the rest of his stew. Sod eating it slowly at this point. All the others seemed to have already finished theirs. "I hope you're up for driving again, Jon," he said. "I'm not sure I can handle the wheel if it gets too bumpy at the moment. I'll do the navigation, though." With that he picked up a paper napkin from the rucksack and started - awkwardly with only one hand - to clean his plate before dumping it in the backpack and hoping someone else would get the bag in the car. Then he opened the door and climbed inside.


	15. Chapter 15

Ryan was more than a little surprised by how easily they'd managed to make their ways by side roads and dirt roads and simple fields without running into any resistance. Maybe the firefight and getting a bullet lodged in his shoulder had made him even more paranoid than before, but he still expected to see soldiers every time they turned a corner or got to the top of a hill. He breathed a sigh of relief every time that turned out not to be the case.

They'd driven through the previous night and laid low during the day and it was now nearing the second morning after they'd gotten their hands on the car. The border, by Ryan's calculations, was only about an hour and a half away now, even going on the dirt roads in the middle of nowhere as they had. And since they weren't close to any city or actual road or anything, crossing shouldn't be too hard.

Although he was tired and still feeling a few of the effects of the blood loss, Ryan felt that he wasn't as bad off as he could've been. The pain in his shoulder seemed to have dimmed a little, and while he was still doped up on painkillers most of the time, it was only two at a time now, instead of four. And there were no signs of infections, which was definitely a plus.

Ryan was looking through the maps, softly directing Jon every once in a while when suddenly a loud ringing emerged from the glove department, and Ryan jumped, eyes widening and breath quickening until he realized it was just a cell phone. Taking a deep breath to calm down, he reached in and pulled the thing out, quickly pressing the button to dismiss the call. And that was when an idea came to him. Rather than just come waltzing back into his country as though he owned it, wouldn't it be better to simply give himself up once he'd gotten the others to safety? From the shitload he knew about the law and its procedures, it would make him look better and probably his punishment milder if he surrendered willingly. He wasn't going to surrender himself to just anyone, though, and without stopping to hesitate, he dialed a number he knew by heart, holding the phone to his ear and waiting for it to be picked up.

"Robb speaking," the familiar voice on the other end stated tiredly with a bit of a grumble in his voice, sounding like he usually did when he was being woken too early for his liking. "Who is this?"

"Tobe," Ryan muttered. "It's me. How quickly can you get to the base outside Kennett?"

"Ryro?!" his friend answered, sounding incredulous but also much more awake. "Where are you? And what the hell do you think you're doing? They're looking left and right for you, Goddammit! There's a fucking warrant!"

"I know, okay?" Ryan answered, his voice a more normal level now as he tried to keep annoyance and fear out of it. "How quickly can you make it to Kennett?"

Tobias groaned on the other end of the line, and there was some shuffling. "If I don't go in at work and take the first plane... Let me check." There was a pause and some more shuffling, and Ryan could easily see his friend in his mind's eye, dragging himself out of bed and towards the computer he never turned off while he blinked blearily. "I can be there at three this afternoon. Why?"

"I'm turning myself in," the younger of the two said with a small sigh after a moment's silence. "And I'd prefer if it were to you. If you could set up for a news reporter and maybe someone from the governor's office to be there too, that would be good."

"I don't even want to know," Tobias stated with another groan, and Ryan could nearly see him sinking his face into his hands. "God, I hate this! Why'd you have to go and fuck up like this, Ry?"

"I'll tell you later," Ryan answered, taking a deep breath. "I'll see you at three." And then he hung up.

Jon did his best to concentrate on the road and try not to hear Ryan's conversation, though it wasn't very easy to ignore someone's voice when they were right next to you. Biting his lip, he glanced into the rear view mirror and saw Brendon, who was now sitting in the back seat instead of the trunk, with his head leaning against the window and his face scrunched. On the opposite side, Spencer was peering right back at Jon and though he said nothing with his words, his eyes said enough. He kept silent for a bit, trying to imagine how Ryan must be feeling right now, and wondering if there was anything he could do to help. The fact that Ryan had reached a friend who would no doubt be coming to meet them was a good thing, though very small when looking at the big picture. He drummed his thumbs on the wheel a bit and chewed at the inside of his cheek before deigning it acceptable to speak. "What's the plan when we get to the border, then?" he asked quietly, and noticed in the rear view that Brendon looked interested, now, if still helpless and sad.

"We stop," Ryan answered slowly. "Get something to eat, rest a little. Around noon we set out to cross on foot, far enough from the base that we should be able to get over undetected. And then we go to the Kennett base where we should hopefully arrive around the same time as Tobias. You guys make nice with the press and whoever Tobe gets his hands on from the governor's office. It's about getting the public to know where you are before anyone can play disappearing stunts with you. The more you're under the public eye, the safer you'll be. I imagine we'll all be taken to New York, but under slightly different circumstances." He turned a joking smile on Jon, trying to push down the fear and sadness that was rising in him. "You're going to come visit me in jail, right?"

"Christ," Jon mumbled, shaking his head. He spared a glance at Ryan, briefly, before turning back to the road. "Don't say things like that," he chided, brows furrowed. "What if Brendon vouched for you, or something?" he asked, his eyes flicking up to look at Brendon in the mirror again. The Prince's eyes snapped up at the mention of his name, and then he went back to looking out the window. But Jon had no doubt that if it meant keeping Ryan out of jail, Brendon would do something. "And what should we be saying to the press, anyway? What're they going to want? What're we supposed to expect?" Unlike Brendon, he didn't have any experience with reporters, but he'd heard Brendon complain enough to know that he probably wouldn't particularly like them.  


"It's war," Ryan muttered, staring out the window at the trees zooming past. "Which means I'll probably be in for war crimes and maybe even high treason if the prosecutor remembers that ancient law. If they decide on charging me in a military court, there's nothing anyone can do. If I get civilian... it'll depend on the jury." He sighed and shook his head, trying to get himself out of the gloom he'd unwillingly entered. Now that it was all so close it was all the harder to push it away, and he was scared to death of it all, but it wouldn't do any of them any good if he let on. "And I have no experience with the press. I think Brendon would know best about that. But, I guess, say whatever you want to and 'no comment' if the questions get too annoying. I really don't know."

From behind them, Brendon sighed and pushed his head away from the window. "They'll want to know about me, mostly, I think. Just do the no comment thing. Reporters all want the best story, and for that they have to know their subject. They will want to know how we escaped and made it here, but they'll also allow themselves to ask as many personal questions as they can. And seeing as apparently Ryan's whole goddamn country hates my guts, it won't be pretty." He shrugged and went back to looking at the passing scenery. "I say we stick with not saying anything until we can maybe sit down with only one very respected reporter, that way it won't be completely chaotic and hopefully we'll be able to trust that this reporter will love their job too much to fuck it up with bias," he sighed. "Anyway, I think it would be better to not say anything for the time being," he finished, and Jon nodded in agreement, catching Spencer's eye in the mirror. He smiled slightly and watched as Spencer forced a strained smile in return.  
  
Ryan nodded slowly, biting his lip. That was probably the advice he should stick to himself. If he tried too hard for sympathy he'd be seen as a wimp, and things he said rarely came out as they were supposed to anyway. He'd probably be better off keeping his big gob shut. He was startled out of his thoughts when the phone in his hand rang again, and upon recognizing the number, he picked it up. "Yeah?"

"Uhm, Ry..." Tobias started. "You sure you don't want to go to Mexico instead? Or another state, or another base, or something?"

"What's wrong with Kennett?" Ryan asked, a sense of foreboding rising up in him in rhythm with his heart making a new home in his throat.

"Because it's war, they've called in all the reserves and... basically reinstated everyone who could be reinstated. Ryan, your dad is heading the Kennett base. I just found out."   


And his heart decided that his throat was really kind of uncomfortable after all and slowly sank to the bottom of his stomach instead. His head was throbbing dully. "Serious?" he muttered.

"Serious," his friend confirmed.

"Oh, Goddammit," Ryan muttered, clenching his eyes shut with gritted teeth. "We're still going," he finally stated. "Just, please, don't leave me alone with him for longer than necessary."

Tobias sighed. "Yeah, okay," he said softly, and Ryan could hear the worry in his voice. It warmed him, at least to a certain extent, that his best friend didn't seem to feel betrayed to a point where he'd be against him. "Bye."

"Bye," Ryan murmured, hanging up again and letting the phone drop to the floor of the car. "Keep driving," he instructed, turning his gaze back to the scenery on the other side of the window.

"Who was that and what's wrong?" It was Spencer who spoke, now, after having been quiet for the better part of their trip. He leaned forward and stuck his head between Ryan and Jon, looking over at Ryan. The boy looked miserable, and Spencer knew that it wasn't just because of his shoulder. And he wanted to know just as much as Ryan did what they were getting into beforehand. He didn't want any surprises and so deemed it necessary to repeat his questions again. "Who've you been calling, anyway? Tobe? Is that what you said before? Is he really your brother, then? What did he say this time?"  
  
"He might as well be," Ryan stated, not looking away from the window. "But we aren't related, no. He's my best friend, we share an apartment. I clean up his mess, he tells me to live a little. And pretty much every comment I've made about him was true, except the brother part and the mentions of hating him." He was silent for a moment, contemplating telling anyone else. "And he just wanted to call to tell me who's heading up the base we're going to. Don't worry, he shouldn't cause you more trouble than the next military guy."

Spencer didn't really believe Ryan about the last part, but he refrained from saying anything. "That's good," he said quietly. "That you have a friend waiting for you, I mean." He sat back again and sighed, grabbing hold of Brendon's hand. This time, instead of the comfort being for Brendon, it was for himself. He looked at Jon and smiled when their eyes met again.  
  


***  


  
It was nearing three o'clock when Spencer spotted the base. They were on foot once again, having left the truck at the border, and Spencer felt almost giddy to be finished with the travelling. Which in turn made him feel slightly guilty, because there was nothing happy about this. He was still holding Brendon's hand and Jon was on his opposite side. Their hands brushed as they walked, but neither had made any move to grasp the other. Ryan was a few steps in front of them, looking worse for the wear. He had taken a few pain killers, but they didn't seem to be helping much. "Well," Spencer finally muttered, squinting a bit. "We're here, I guess..." he trailed off and pictured dozens of reporters and military men waiting for them, and fear coiled in his stomach, though he knew enough to keep his face looking impassive. Brendon had this down to an art, and had Spencer not known better, he would have thought that none of this was affecting the boy in the least.  
  
Ryan was walking briskly ahead, staring at nothing and most decidedly not thinking of anything. At least it would all have been a lot easier if he'd been able to keep himself from thinking. They were reaching the checkpoint where cars could drive into the barbed wire-surrounded base, and Ryan kept walking until he was right in front of the young soldier sitting there. He reached into his pocket and picked up his UBI badge before taking the weapons out of his belt and pockets, letting everything fall on the desk. "I'm meeting special agent Tobias Robb here at three hundred hours," he informed. "If you'd be so kind as to let us in it would be much appreciated."  


The kid, probably no older than Brendon, Jon at most, looked down at the badge, and his eyes widened when he saw the name on it. "I-I'm going to have to have to call the colonel for confirmation," he stuttered, looking at Ryan as though he expected him to suddenly grow ten feet and start eating babies right before his eyes. After holding still, almost expectantly, under Ryan's heavy gaze for a few moments he picked up his phone. "Sir, could you inform the colonel that George Ross is here for Tobias Robb? ... Yes,  _that_  George Ross ... Yeah, I will ... ... Yeah, okay, sir." Then he turned his eyes back on Ryan. "I need to search you for weapons," he stated, eyeing the sling.

"Go ahead," Ryan murmured, standing stiffly as the young soldier searched the sling, then his pockets and pant pockets before running his hands up and down his sides. When he was satisfied, the soldier turned apologetically to the others, giving a small shrug.

"He's not searching us," Brendon spat, his voice showing his disgust clearly. A second passed in silence before Brendon cringed and let a resigned look pass over his features. "Is he?" he asked softly, gripping Spencer's hand tighter than was really needed. He saw Jon step forward and take the gun from his pocket, handing it over with its handle facing the soldier. The soldier approached them and took the gun, almost reluctantly, and watched Brendon suspiciously for a few moments before recognition dawned.  
  
"Jesus," he whispered in disbelief, looking back towards Ryan, one eyebrow raised. He shook his head and looked back at the three boys, searching them one by one (Brendon scowled menacingly the whole time) before stepping back and nodding. "Alright," he said, and set about opening the heavy gate to admit them. Once it was opened, the three younger men looked to Ryan for what he would do next.  
  
Ryan walked through the gate and then set about waiting, and sure enough, not even thirty seconds later two heavily armed soldiers, looking a lot less befuddled than the one who'd been at the gate, came to walk on either side of him, the one on his right gripping his good arm harshly. "The colonel wants to speak with you, traitor," the one on his left hissed in his ear, and Ryan was torn oddly between rolling his eyes and shaking in fear.

He must've somehow blacked out the rest of the walk, because the next thing he knew they were in a large, nice office, and he was face to face with a man he hadn't seen in the better part of two years. He stared into eyes nearly identical with his own, and they stared back from a face framed with grey hair. George Ross had a strong, square jaw, a large nose, low forehead and a broad, slightly wrinkled face. He was a little shorter than Ryan but made up for it by being twice as broad, all of it muscle. Save for the eyes they looked nothing alike. The colonel stood from his chair, walking around his desk until he was right in front of Ryan, and Ryan's knees habitually bent a little like they had every time he'd seen his father since he'd first grown to be the tallest of the two. Having to look up at his son pissed George Ross off like nothing else could, and Ryan knew this only too well.

The hard, resounding slap against his face was anything but a surprise, and Ryan didn't make a sound, just winced when the force of it nearly made him bite through his lip, sent his cheek burning and his ears ringing. "You dare show your face after what you've done?" the colonel hissed, leaning close enough that Ryan wasn't sure if anyone else could even hear it. He thought he might prefer it if they couldn't. "You have always been a disappointment, but this fucking takes the cake by miles." His hand had shot out again, this time landing on Ryan's left shoulder where it sat heavily, the thumb purposefully digging straight into the bandaged wound. "If they give you the death sentence, I will agree entirely." His eyes narrowed and he leaned in close enough that Ryan could taste his breath. For once in his life there was no alcohol on it. "I have no son," he hissed, the words so low Ryan could hardly hear them, but still sharp as whips.

Without making a conscious decision, Ryan felt a bitter laugh bubbling in his throat. "You're one to talk," he said, his brain seeming to have disconnected, almost as though he was watching the scene from outside his body. "You Goddamn bastard of a drunken bully!" Another laugh came through. "I've hated you since I joined the academy and realized nothing I did could make you change. I got into Harvard law, and all you had to say was that you guessed I had to find  _something_  I could be accepted into since the Navy would never take me. I made the academy and you said that since I apparently wasn't good enough for Naval Intelligence, they could have me. I never measured up in your eyes, but at some point I realized that was because  _you_  never measured up, and you were angry as fuck that I wasn't going to do it  _for_  you." His words were curt and sharp, practically being spat out. "You may have decided these last few days that you don't have a son, but I've never fucking  _had_  a father!"

When the colonel's hand connected with his face again it was even less of a surprise than before, even if it was a fist this time, hardened knuckles cracking against his nose and sending it flowing with blood as Ryan staggered back. He still didn't make a sound, still didn't feel connected to his body. And even if he had, well, he had learned years and years ago how to not feel things like this. He could only hope that Tobias would come before he was permanently injured. Although, if the old man hadn't managed yet, what were the chances he would this time?

Brendon's mouth dropped open when the man first hit Ryan, and then he found himself gasping loudly at the mention that this-- this man was Ryan's father. He slapped a hand over his mouth when the man punched his son and staggered back a bit himself. After a few seconds of tense silence, he strode forward and scowled at the man. "Excuse me," he said, his voice low and dangerous as he forbid himself to seem even the tiniest bit scared. "But I'm going to be speaking to the press soon, and I don't think that news about this," he motioned behind him with his hand, "would be well received," he faltered a bit, wondering if maybe their military was allowed to do that? Fortunately, he had the grace to not let any doubt show on his face, no matter how stupid this man might think he was because of what he'd said.  
  
Ryan felt the moment's panic he'd always felt when he was young and his mother had tried to defend him, but he managed to push it away. Even George Ross the Second wasn't stupid enough to start punching princes. And it had worked to the extent that the man had stopped him, much sooner than the murderous look in his eyes warranted, and Ryan couldn't help but feel more than a little relieved as he was overtaken by the strange sensation of practically merging with his body again, holding back a groan at his bloody nose and aching chest. The pain in his shoulder had reached levels he was sure it hadn't been at since that first day, and he was quite sure it had started bleeding again. There was no way the clumsy stitches would've held. He sat down on a nearby chair with as much grace as he could muster, deciding to ignore the fuming officer as he turned his gaze to the door.

His prayers were answered a moment later when it swung open to reveal an uncharacteristically neat, suit-dressed Tobias, who was holding up his badge for the colonel's behalf. Then he turned to Ryan with a look of regret on his face. "It's three oh nine and you're under arrest," he stated sadly, no trace of enthusiasm there. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. Since you can't afford a lawyer, I'll get you the best damn one my dad's money can buy." He snuck in a small smile, then looked over Ryan's shoulder. "Colonel Ross, I'll take the apprehended down to the medical bay and have him checked over before we ship back to NYC." Then he turned to the others. "There's a small delegation out in the lobby to meet you. Better get your faces out there and seen." Then he put a careful hand on Ryan's good shoulder, steering him gently towards the door.

Ryan shot a small glance over his shoulder, looking at the faces of the three people he'd been around nearly constantly for months. He considered saying something along the lines of 'good luck', but it felt too plain, and not cheerful enough. They definitely looked like they could use some cheering up. "Jon, you never did promise!" he called.

Brendon bit his lip, chastising himself for the tears threatening to spill down his cheeks. He took a deep, shuddering breath and blinked them away, wanting so badly to say something to Ryan, but just couldn't find the words. His breath hitched at Ryan's next words, and he watched Jon smile sadly. "I'll come," Jon said, loud enough for Ryan to hear. "And hopefully I'll be bringing a couple more people along," he added, doing his best to keep smiling. Brendon tried to swallow around the knot that had formed in his throat and turned away abruptly, covering his face with his hands. He felt Spencer pull him into a hug and murmur things he couldn't hear but still made him feel better, somehow. He wasn't crying. He wouldn't give these people the satisfaction. He'd just needed to look away.  
  
The door swung closed, and when it had been silent for what seemed like an eternity, Brendon pulled his hands away and looked up. He stared at Ryan's father-- the bastard was lucky Brendon didn't have Zach with him-- and then stalked out of the room. There were some reporters he needed to deal with, and then, who knew?  


***

__**"My parents will forever be thankful that Ryan Ross was there when DURA decided to deal the first blow," Jon Walker, son of Jacob and Janice Walker, stated during a very small press conference held yesterday afternoon. Jacob and Janice, leaders of the resistance against Beauregia, their own country of birth, were also in attendance. Despite their many claims against their country and how it's been run for the last century, they assure that they never agreed with war, and have been trying to change things from the inside for years. Janice Walker was also heard saying that the manner in which DURA was treating their newest prisoner was despicable. Brendon Beauregard, Crown Prince of Beauregia, spoke vehemently in George Ryan Ross'-- arrested little over a week ago-- defense.**  
  
George Ryan Ross, who goes only by Ryan Ross, was charged with war crimes and many Military personal are fighting to have him charged with high treason. His crimes? Helping a Crown Prince, the son of Beauregian Resistance leaders, and an under-aged friend escape death--  
  
"Hey, check it out! We're in the news," Jon gushed excitedly from his spot on the lush, red couch. He turned up the sound and motioned for Brendon and Spencer to join them. Spencer rolled his eyes and pouted slightly at the mention of him being an 'under-aged friend', which made him out to be about thirteen years old. "Think it'll help anything?" Jon finally asked, glancing at the other two. Brendon looked worse for the wear, thin and tired and sickly. He shrugged slightly, averting his eyes from the television as they went on to introduce Ryan, and mentioning who his father was. He was still angry at what that man had done.  
  
They'd been living with Jon's parents, in the meantime. Though it was nowhere near as big as The Castle, it was big enough for all of them to live comfortably. They each had their own rooms, and Jon's grandparents had even caught a plane to join their family. Seeing Jon with his family always made his heart clench, though, and Brendon found himself spending most of his time alone in his room. He was happy, at least, that Spencer and Jon seemed happy. In the weeks that followed, he took to avoiding newspapers and the television, figuring that if something happened, he would be told. This is why he was surprised when, two weeks after the press conference, Jon announced that he'd be going to see Ryan. Alone.  
  


***  


  
It had taken a lot of bribing, Jon knew, to get him past security and in a chair close to Ryan. There was one guard standing by the door, of course, but it was better than nothing. "I don't think whoever you work for are letting the news get their hands on whatever is happening," he said quietly. "We haven't really heard anything. How're you holding up?"  
  
"Detention isn't actually so bad," Ryan stated with a shrug. His shoulder still ached a little with it, but was mostly healed up. It would probably never be as good as new, though. "Just incredibly boring." And lonely, but Ryan wasn't going to speak about that out loud. It was definitely better than actual prison was going to be. "They decided to try me as a civilian, since I'm not actually military, just intel." He took a deep breath, looking up at Jon. The younger male looked a lot better than he had the last time Ryan had seen him. Rest and regular meals did wonders, he figured. "But it's still not looking good. They somehow found out I was behind that group of dead soldiers, and I'm being tried for war crimes and high treason, lawyer couldn't do anything about it." He sighed, rubbing his wrist slightly. It seemed to be perpetually aching these days from wearing handcuffs every single day the trial had gone on. He looked up and met Jon's eyes again, lowering his voice until it was nearly inaudible. "Jon, I need you to do me a favor."

Jon swore under his breath at the mention of high treason and shook his head in dismay. When Ryan lowered his voice, Jon looked at him with interest and leaned forward just the tiniest bit without being too obvious. "What?" he asked, feeling like he was in a movie and that the guard would haul him out any second.  


Ryan gulped slightly, licking his lips nervously, but he had made up his mind a while ago. "If they give me more than a year," he whispered, voice quiet. "I need you to get me a razor or a bottle of painkillers or a fucking shoelace." He breathed in deep, closing his eyes for a moment. He could sense the other boy's confusion without even looking. "Ever listen to that band, My Chemical Romance? They have this song called  _Know What they Do to Guys Like Us in Prison_. You should check it out some day." His voice had reached a more normal level, and he breathed in deeply, nervously, again. "I hope I can do a year, and if I can't, I'll deal with it myself." He looked away. "I hate asking something like this of you, but I thought you might be able to understand."

Jon glared at Ryan, biting down on all the remarks that wanted to spill from his mouth. None of them would help. "If we don't get you out of here, then you have my word that I will do whatever you ask of me," he finally said, hating every word. "But you listen to me," he dropped his voice even lower. "I've got my parents working on getting you out of here without any jail time, and I know that Brendon is doing his part, despite the fact that he hasn't spoken in days..." he trailed off, unhappy that he'd revealed that, but he couldn't take it back now. "So, don't go planning anything yet," he finished firmly, reproachfully.   
  
  
Feeling his heart sinking at the mention of Brendon's unresponsiveness, Ryan glanced away again. "I'm not planning anything concrete," he stated. "I'm just looking at every angle, and I know myself well enough to know what I can and cannot do." He stared at his too-long, thin fingers, flexing them slightly before he drew his knees up against his chest on the narrow cot. It was a position he'd probably subconsciously copied from Brendon, but it did make him feel better. "And while I hope and pray you succeed... there are some things I never want to do against my will. And never with someone I don't love, if I can't help it." He laughed softly, a bitter tone to it, and his mouth felt like he'd bit into an apple that was very far from ripe yet. "I know that's probably the part you don't understand, but that's how I feel about it, always felt about it." He snorted self-deprecatingly, shaking his head slightly. "Probably why I managed to stay a virgin until last month," he muttered under his breath, before blushing when he realized he'd spoken out loud. Being alone in a cell so much of the time had drawn the habit of thinking out loud out in him again, and he found it was quite hard to control even around others. "But never mind any of that," he said with a bright, fake smile. "I'll trust you guys."

Jon grimaced slightly, remembering what he'd said before about sex. "I respect you for that," he said quietly, gazing at his shoes. "It's not fun waking up to someone you barely know-- or someone who can't even remember your name and vice versa," he said. "Trust me." He sighed and glanced over his shoulder before looking back up at Ryan. "When Brendon puts his mind to something, he can do almost anything," he stated with a confidence he didn't feel. "And when he believes in something, it's almost hard for others not to, as well, because he's so passionate about it. So... don't give up just yet," he finished, smiling slightly, though it felt fake even to himself.

Ryan could tell simply from the tone in Jon's voice that the boy wasn't nearly as optimistic as he was making himself out to be, and the former agent felt his heart drop a little, fear clenching it in a way that had become all too familiar over the last days. He appreciated the effort, though, and he was quite sure it would make Jon feel better if he appeared to believe the reassurances, so he managed to put a small smile on his face. "Thank you," he murmured. "I haven't, and I won't. I'm not really the type to give up." His tone came out a bit wry. "I'm maybe not always that optimistic, but I'm not about to give up until I have no choice. And if that were to happen, I'd want to give up on my own terms, not someone else's, that's why I asked this of you." He looked up at the guard who was staring pointedly at his wrist watch, and Ryan gave a small sigh. "I think time's about up," he stated, reaching out and squeezing Jon's shoulder. "Take care of Brendon, all right? He's not always as strong as he likes to make himself out to be."

Jon nodded and let out a startled chuckle. "Yeah, I know," he said, squeezing Ryan's hand before pushing himself up from the chair and letting the guard lead him away. He didn't dare look back, and could only try to find ways that they could help Ryan. The boy obviously needed them if he was at the point of asking--. He stopped that thought. Ryan wouldn't need to give up-- on his own or anyone else's terms. Jon was determined to help him in any way he could, and he was sure that Brendon and Spencer felt the same, and even his parents would probably get on board.

***

Ryan was focused only on steadying his breathing and keeping his feet moving as he was led to the courtroom. Today was the day of the final argument from both lawyers, and the day when the jury would make its final decision. And it wasn't looking good for Ryan. He knew it, because even his no-nonsense, highest-possible-class defender had been sweating in their meeting the previous night. He was dead-scared now, and he hadn't gotten a wink of sleep during the night that had passed, making his steps a little shuffling. But with the cuffs around his wrists that didn't seem all too surprising.

"Excuse me, sir," some secretary called, coming up next to the officer who was leading Ryan along. "Excuse me, I was asked to tell you that the trial has been moved to Room One, sir." 

The officer scoffed. "You must have been misinformed," he stated. "Room One is the biggest there is in the building. It's never used for closed trials, only ever for the huge ones with hundreds of people and media."

The secretary smiled impishly. "Exactly, sir," she replied, sending Ryan a wink before she walked away. Ryan, bewildered, followed when the officer as his rough hand gripped Ryan's thin arm. 

"I don't know what the hell is going on," the man said gruffly. "But if you're released it'll be over my dead body." 

Ryan didn't respond, merely kept following as they neared the defendant's entrance, his lawyer meeting them there. 

***

Brendon, Spencer and the Walkers were in the court room, and had been for a while, now. They were surrounded by diplomats from several countries, surely more than any of them could name, and they all seemed to be talking agitatedly amongst themselves. Mr and Mrs Walker had even joined in, speaking heatedly to a Russian diplomat beside them. Brendon couldn't believe it. When the Walkers had started talking about getting support from other countries, he didn't think it would be this many countries. Surely every member of the UN was here. Or almost every, at least. He looked over at the prosecutor and noted that he was livid, which only made him smile. Maybe things would go in their favour, after all.

They didn't have to wait long after that for Ryan's arrival, and when Brendon saw him being handled roughly by some big, hulking, guard, he snarled and nearly jumped up from his seat. He would have, if Spencer's hand hadn't grasped his arm just in time, and his soothing voice hadn't told him to calm down. He did, but with much effort, and just hoped that this trial would end quickly.  
  
Ryan felt his eyes practically bulging out of his head when he entered the court room. It was gigantic, and absolutely stuffed to the brim with people. He hadn't seen this many people in one place since the cafeteria back at school, lifetimes ago it seemed. From the large grin suddenly blooming on the face of his lawyer, though, he guessed it was probably a good thing. He was led the rest of the way to his seat, a lot more gently than usual, and then it started.

The closing arguments seemed to pass in a blur, which was decidedly more than a little odd since Ryan was sure he could remember close to every word said in any of the other sessions, but this day just seemed to be so unusual that his mind couldn't help but wander. Before he knew it they were over, and Ryan was back in his cell while the jury adjourned. Somehow time was still insubstantial, and before anything had registered he was back in the court, standing up as the verdict was being read out loud.

"We, the jury," the foreman started, clearing his throat and looking out over the gathered people nervously. "Find the defendant guilty as charged." A roar rose over the room and the foreman looked nearly scared as he hastened to continue. "We, however, also find that there were alleviating circumstances. We are willing to give a sentence of time served, but since the defendant is a potential threat to our great country, time served is under the condition of irreversible banishment. Mr. Ross will have a week to leave the country or he will serve twenty-five to life in a highly secure prison."

At first Ryan only felt confusion at the verdict, but as the seconds passed his jaw dropped more and more until a wide smile spread over his face and he had to keep himself from shouting in jubilation. He was no longer a citizen of DURA, but he  _was_  alive and free, and what was more important? He found himself being pulled into a tight hug by his lawyer, the assistant patting his back while the flashes of cameras made his vision swim. He was free!  


Spencer immediately pulled Brendon into a hug when the verdict was read, and let the boy hide his face in his neck, lest others see the tears that had gathered in the corners of his eyes. Smiling widely, Spencer simply held Brendon tightly, and looked fondly at Jon. He knew that there were photographers everywhere, some of them aiming cameras in their direction, but Spencer didn't mind, and what Brendon didn't know wouldn't hurt him just now.  
  
Brendon, for his part, felt like he could finally breathe after weeks of not being able to. He took a deep breath, blinked the tears away, and pulled away from Spencer after a few moments. He grinned unguardedly before turning to look at Ryan, who the reporters were hounding for answers and photographers were jostling each other for the right picture. "I can't believe this," he finally said, and his voice sounded happy-- like it had when he'd been back at school. But, now, thinking about school brought on problems. He had learned, in the past few weeks, that his father had not survived the attack, but that his mother had been declared missing-- not dead. He hadn't-- and still didn't-- known how to react to that. Beauregia was still being ravished by war, and Brendon wanted so much to go back, but he knew he wouldn't be allowed to. He felt a bit as though he'd been banished from his own country, as well.  
  
"C'mon, let's go wait for Ryan outside," Spencer said, snapping Brendon out of his thoughts. He tugged on Brendon's hand and lead him away from the courtroom and to a kind of waiting room where they could wait for Ryan. Sitting down, Brendon occupied himself with listening to Jon and his parents talk about how nerve-wracking the whole things had been, letting their voices distract him from other thoughts.  
  


***

"Mr. Ross!" someone shouted. "Mr. Ross!" Ryan turned around and his eyes landed on the plump little man who was smiling brightly. "Hello," the man greeted, his accent unmistakable. "I'm Ernest Baker," he introduced himself. "Part of the English delegation. I wanted to give you our sincere congratulations as well as extend our invitations." He reached out and shook Ryan's hand a bit belatedly, still grinning. "Our country is always open for a hero."

Ryan would've laughed at being called a hero, but he was too stunned, not to mention caught up in the sense of irony of it all. A hand landed on his shoulder and he turned around to meet the gaze of his lawyer. "You should think this decision through carefully, my boy," the middle-aged man stated. "Japan and France and Norway, Germany and Brazil have already given me written declarations of granting you political refuge." An assistant walked up, placing an envelope in the man's hand, and the attorney looked down for a moment. "And Spain," he added. "You don't have to make your decision right now."

The former agent just gave him a smile and a shrug before turning back to the diplomat. "Lately I've had this urge to study English lit," he informed, pulling his hand back at last. "What better place to do it?" 

The small man gave him another wide grin. "You'll have the plane tickets by tomorrow. Or your attorney will." He cocked an eyebrow slightly. "And I don't doubt we could procure a scholarship. All you have to do is name the university." 

Ryan grinned. "Let me get back to you on that one," he requested. "Next term is still a good month or two away." Then he nodded respectfully at both men, starting to walk away. "If you'll excuse me, I have some people I need to see." And without waiting for a response he waved off the throng of reporters, starting towards the waiting room someone had told him friends and family would be waiting in.  


Spencer was the first to notice Ryan approaching and he rushed up to hug him, still shaking with excitement. He congratulated Ryan, his eyes bright and wide. "How're you feeling? Where are you going to live?" he asked breathlessly. Jon turned away from his parents, smirking at the whirlwind that was Spencer at the moment, and walked over to the two, throwing his arms around Ryan and squeezing him tightly. He looked over at Brendon, who was slowly making his way over, as though unsure of what he should do when he got here. The boy was keeping his gaze steadfastly locked on the ground and his hands stuffed into his pockets.  
  
The breath hitched in Ryan's throat when he saw Brendon approaching. He hadn't seen the prince in what felt like forever, and even with the slight circles under his eyes and what seemed like a bit of a weight loss since Ryan had first met him, the boy had to be the most beautiful thing the former agent had ever seen. And, God, Ryan used to think he was straight. He had no idea how to approach Brendon, though, no idea what to say now that they weren't in a life or death situation anymore. He allowed himself to stare over Spencer's shoulder for another moment, squeezing the boy in his arms as he did before pulling back, sending Jon a toothy grin. "I'm feeling pretty fantastic right now," he stated. "A little high, maybe," he added. He grinned at Spencer. "So, what sounds best? Oxford or Cambridge?"  


Before he got an answer, though, the door swung open, and in came Tobe, leading a much smaller woman with glossy brown hair and delicate features, and Ryan felt his smile growing even wider. "Mom," he exclaimed, his voice breathy as he tore off, practically running until he could take the small, fine-boned woman in his arms, squeezing without any intentions of ever letting go. He could feel tears beginning to sting in his eyes and he squeezed them shut, burying his face in his mother's hair.

His mother squeezed back, almost so tightly that he couldn't breathe, and one of her hands had risen to pet his hair. He wouldn't be surprised if she were crying as well. "I'm so glad you're safe, baby boy," she whispered against his neck. "So happy." She was silent for a moment before she drew back a little, sending him a stern, though teary look. "Don't ever scare me like that again, George Ryan," she ordered briskly. "Ever." A small smile shone through. "Although I am glad you learned your lesson at last.

Brendon stopped short upon seeing Ryan rush to meet a woman-- his mother-- and he smiled and averted his gaze. He heard Jon snicker at the reprimand and the 'George Ryan', knowing it was him without even looking up. He glanced over at Spencer, who looked like he wanted to coo and 'aw' and flutter around, and rolled his eyes, chuckling lightly. At the sound, Spencer quickly took a few steps back and snatched Brendon's hand, holding onto it tightly. No doubt Spencer was thinking of his own family, wondering if his father had been at the Castle at the time of the attack, and if his mother was alright. Brendon laced their fingers and exhaled shakily, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. He dearly hoped that Spencer's family was out of harm's way, though he knew it was rather far-fetched. He put his arm around Spencer's waist and kissed his temple lightly, hoping to put him at ease.  
  
Ryan gently extricated himself from his mother's embrace, turning to look at the others. Something in his stomach sunk at the sight of Brendon and Spencer's laced fingers, but he fought it down. How many times had he seen that gesture already? They were just comforting each other. And he guessed that seeing his mother show up here hadn't been that easy for them either. "Mom, Tobe," he said softly. "This is Jon, Brendon, Spencer and Jon's parents, Jacob and Janice Walker," he introduced. "Guys, my mom and the infamous Tobias." He sent Spencer and Brendon sympathetic looks, but didn't really know what he could do to comfort or help them. He was quite sure Brendon would still be opposed to any kind of touch from him. He bit his lip slightly. "You know, I promised to show you England, but I think you guys could all use a vacation. I'm not sure if you'd even want to, but it could be fun, I guess, to see it together instead? Or you could come next summer and I might actually know stuff well enough to show you, so-" He cut himself off, shaking his head slightly. He was absolutely babbling, which had him bewildered. Babbling had never been a habit of his. It had been Ryan Hastings', but Hastings didn't actually exist. Except the part where maybe Ryan had started to like tight jeans and designer t-shirts a little bit too much considering the kind of budget he was used to being on, and the part where he was actually at least bi-sexual... and the part where he maybe babbled a little when he was nervous. So maybe they weren't so different at all. Ryan shook his head again to clear it. No, that was just ridiculous. Hastings had always pretty much been his polar opposite, so why? He pushed the thought down and gave a nervous smile. "Sorry," he said.

His mother laughed gently. "You always used to do that when you were younger," she stated with a delighted sound that was almost a giggle. Then she sobered slightly. "Then your father told you it was unbecoming and you never did it since." She looked him up and down slightly, her gaze so clear and intent that Ryan experienced the urge to squirm away. "I don't think I've seen you be more yourself than you are right now in the last ten years."

Brendon inclined his head when his name was spoken, letting his gaze drift from Ryan's mother to Tobias. So, this was the guy who had sent the now well-used oils, then? Maybe he should thank him... Before he got the chance to open his mouth, though, Ryan started babbling in the completely endearing way he had. Apparently, this was out of the norm, but Brendon knew that for Spencer, Jon and himself it was just something Ryan did. At the mention of Ryan's father, though, Brendon clenched his free hand and felt himself shaking with barely-suppressed rage. He dimly heard Spencer ask him what was wrong, but instead of answering, he shut his eyes and took a few calming breaths, hoping they would help. It didn't stop the fact that he had never hated anyone as much as he hated Ryan's father. Not even Ryan himself, when he'd announced his mission and deceit a few weeks before, which was surprising in itself.  
  
Ryan bit his lip when the room lapsed into silence, and it was odd, this intense urge to fill it when he still wasn't used to not appreciating silences as much as he once had, even though his thoughts weren't as unfriendly now as they'd been for the last many months. "Well," he finally muttered. "I get to pick, but I don't really know. Oxford or Cambridge? I guess King James wouldn't be so bad either, but I don't really feel like going to school in the middle of the city." He smiled slightly. "I guess I've gotten used to the rural thing." He shrugged, barely noticing the aching pull in his shoulder as he looked over the gathered faces, biting his lip nervously again. Another gesture that hadn't been his until very recently.

"Oxford sounds exciting," Spencer finally put in, then moaned in distress. "Does this mean we have to take our last year all over again?" he complained, looking over at Jon, who looked positively ill at the idea, and Brendon who still looked angry. Jon shrugged, clearly against the idea, but didn't have an answer. "That is just not fair," Spencer pouted, folding his arms across his chest. Truthfully, he wasn't very concerned about his schooling at the moment, but he welcomed the fact that it was something meaningless to think about instead of worrying about his parents. "Well," he said, plastering on a smile. "Shall we get out of here? Maybe go eat?"  
  
"It does," Ryan agreed with a slight hum. "And I don't think you do. You finished your senior year. You just have to find someone willing to help you sit your exams, and then it's college or university, whichever. If you can find one you want to attend, that is." He swallowed slightly, only half aware that he was blabbering again, although at least he still had an American accent. "I mean, after all that's happened I don't see you enrolling in the DURA school system, and Beauregia is kind of a mess." He bit his tongue to silence the rambling words escaping his mouth. "Then again, I guess you're high profile enough that any country would take you." He looked around the court room, deciding he'd definitely had about enough of this place to last him... oh, about the rest of his life. "And continuing the talk somewhere else would be nice, but I don't feel up to all the reporters."

"You can come to my house," Jon immediately suggested, looking back towards his parents, who smiled and nodded their assent. He grinned and looked back towards the others, motioning for them to follow as he lead the way out of the courthouse, finally.


	16. Chapter 16

A year earlier Ryan would never imagine having been in a dorm room. Even a few months ago, during his stay in Beauregia, he wouldn't have imagined inhabiting another one willingly. But the dorm room was part of his scholarship, and an apartment of his own would've cost extra. Ryan wasn't exactly made of money, so the decision was easy. After three months in England and nearly as long at Oxford University, he was about settled in. Not to mention buried in assignments. He'd ended up deciding on English lit as his major, throwing in some creative writing classes, and music as his minor, and altogether that definitely gave him a lot to do. Honestly, he was quite grateful for that fact. He was in a new country where he knew no one and everyone looked at him oddly because of the rumours and news reports that had made it this far. He'd never been good at making new friends, was really a bit too shy for that, and to add to that he now didn't know which of the people who approached him just wanted to be able to say they were friends with a 'hero'. He couldn't wait for that whole farce to blow over.

It didn't make things any easier that while he spoke to Spencer and Jon at least once a week, often more, he hadn't spoken to Brendon at all, practically. He knew from the other two that the former Prince was doing better, was smiling and speaking a whole lot more again, but Ryan seemed to have a constant ache in his chest that got worse the longer he didn't see or speak to the boy. But at the same time he had never been able to bring himself to pick up the phone and dial Brendon's number, and Brendon hadn't called either. Nor had there been emails, and 'Zeke' had been suspiciously absent from every chat room Ryan could think of. And missing Brendon, and to maybe a lesser extent, every one else, didn't exactly make socialising any easier. So maybe he was back to being the weird, quiet kid he had been in law school, but he didn't really know how to break out of that shell, and it didn't help that most people here were younger than him, which just felt awkward.

He pushed the troubling thoughts away and went back to the empty music sheet shining from the screen on his laptop. Jazz composition. Why the hell jazz? He groaned inaudibly and ran a hand over his face for a moment, closing his eyes, but when he opened his eyes the assignment still said to make a variation over  _Georgia on My Mind_. Ryan didn't want to analyse Dickens'  _A Christmas Carol_ , he definitely didn't want to make variations over  _White Christmas_  (which, thank God, he hadn't been assigned), and he just didn't want it to be Christmas, period. It was only early December, but the Christmas depression had set in the moment he realized his mother wasn't going to come visit. She hadn't been able to scratch together enough money, and when Tobias had offered to pay, the government had made it clear that she wouldn't get a visa for England for years to come. Apparently they felt cheated out of punishing him and had to make things worse. And Tobias was being kept on assignment and couldn't come either. Christmas was all well and good. At least when you could look forward to spending it with someone you loved, rather than alone in a strange country. adding in solos in the different instruments. He took a breath, rolled his eyes, and started typing in notes. It could be worse. The composition teacher could've decided to follow the flow of his 1800's lit teacher and go completely Christmas.   


***

It had taken a whole three weeks of having Jon and Spencer stare at and whisper about him for Brendon to start talking again. They knew that Ryan's departure had hurt him, even though Brendon kept pretending to feel sick, but they'd be damned if they let him wallow in self-pity. Now, three months after the departure, Brendon was normal again, acting like he had in school. Acting like he had  _before_  meeting Ryan. Spencer, though happy to see his best friend again, hated seeing Brendon act as though Ryan had never existed and he constantly suggested that he call the other man, or even go visit. Every time it came up, though, Brendon would glare at him and then proceed to give him the silent treatment for a few hours.  
  
Brendon's mood got worse and worse as Christmas approached, and Spencer didn't blame him. He'd gotten news that his mother was still considered missing, when everyone, even Spencer, knew that their family would be safe for the holidays. And so Spencer suggested, once again, that Brendon visit Ryan. "You two can be lonely together," he said one night as he pretended to be busy reading. Brendon was sitting beside him on the couch, curled up with a book of his own. He scowled, but didn't look up from the page. "Neither his mother nor Tobe can get on a plane to see him, but you can, Bren..." he trailed off, momentarily happy to see Brendon looking pensive, like he was actually considering. And then Brendon was standing and heading towards his bedroom without giving Spencer an answer. Sighing, he went back to his reading, only looking up when Jon sat beside him and leaned his head on his shoulder. "Think we can force him to get on a plane? Kidnap him, or something?" Spencer asked, a smile playing on his lips when Jon barked out a laugh.  
  
In his bedroom, Brendon was pacing. He couldn't stand the thought of Ryan alone, especially after everything he'd been through. Brendon, at least, had his friends, and Jon's parents, even, who they were still living with. But Ryan had no one, and he was in a foreign country. Biting his lip, he let out a frustrated noise before sitting down in front of his laptop and entering a travel site to look up the earliest plane to England.  
  


***  


  
Jon and Spencer had seen Brendon off at the airport, smiling at him and promising that they wouldn't tell Ryan, keeping the visit a surprise. This only caused Brendon to roll his eyes, but he hugged them both before he was off. The plane ride had been nearly unbearable and decidedly too long. By the time Brendon was standing in Heathrow, his legs felt stiff and gelatinous at the same time, which was quite a feat. Ignoring all the stores on his way by, which in itself was also quite a feat, he caught the first taxi he saw outside and gave the driver the address Spencer had neatly written down. The driver grunted, gave the slip of paper back, and was off.  
  
By the time Brendon was standing near the Student Dorms, it was rather late at night, and he was feeling more than just a bit nervous. Which didn't make much sense. He was only visiting a friend, after all. Taking a deep breath, he took the steps up to the right building and pushed open the doors, following Spencer's instructions to the right floor and door. Once there, he set his bags down, looked down at the paper again just to make sure, and knocked very softly.

Ryan practically jumped at the sound, messing up the signature he'd been putting on his Dickens paper. His heart was thumping madly in his chest. Ever since the war and the trial he'd been wary of sudden noises and a lot jumpier than he ever had been before. Biting his lip, he got up and crossed the room, cautiously unlocked the door and opening it a crack. It wouldn't be the first time reporters tried to get in and, again, he really couldn't fucking wait for the media circus to find something else to focus on. "Who is it?" he asked, trying to keep the nervous note out of his voice.

"Open the damn door and let me in. Plane rides make me unbelievably tired and cranky," Brendon called, peeking through the opening. He huffed and picked up his bags once again, wincing as the handle cut into his already sore hand, and looked left and right. There was no one else in the hallway, and he was sure he'd gotten the right door. Even the voice had been Ryan's, though he'd sounded much unlike himself. When had he ever been nervous about something like this? Brendon frowned slightly and bit his lip, silently waiting for the door to open. Apparently Ryan wasn't doing so well, despite Jon and Spencer's accounts that he was.

Upon recognizing the voice, Ryan first gave a sigh of relief, and then he felt elation building, forming a wide grin on his face as he hurriedly opened the door the rest of the way. And then he was face to face with Brendon and nerves seemed to unfold in his stomach, so many that there wasn't room for them and they foiled and magnified and pushed until he was nearly nauseous. The younger male looked so much like himself, but more like he had looked when they first met - cold and untouchable. And Ryan had wanted to hug him, just be close and feel the warmth and belonging again, but nerves quelled the impulse. He stood awkwardly for a moment before moving aside, a nervous smile passing over his face. "Hi," he murmured, at a complete loss of what to say or do.

Brendon stifled a sigh and walked into the room. He'd practically saved Ryan's life and then not seen him for months. Didn't he deserve a hug? He bit his lip and pushed that thought to the back of his mind, telling himself that he didn't want a hug, anyway. "Doing homework?" he asked, glancing over at what he assumed to be Ryan's workspace. He let his bags fall to the floor near a closet and turned around to look at Ryan again, shoving his hands into his pockets and standing awkwardly. They both seemed to be fond of awkward at the moment. He cleared his throat and rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, his gaze sweeping the room. It was rather small.

"Yeah," Ryan muttered, still worrying his lips with his teeth. Then, finally, he pushed his nerves down. Brendon obviously wouldn't have come all the way to England if he had hated Ryan and wanted nothing to do with him. So he finally followed his impulse and took some of the few hardest steps in his life until he was right in front of Brendon. And closing his eyes tightly over a sudden stinging that might come from happiness and relief, or maybe from how large the gap between them felt, he wrapped his arms around the younger male's neck, pulling them tight and burying his own face. His heart was racing again and every nerve in his body was screaming with joy even if the hug wasn't being reciprocated yet, and he still felt so awkward. But at the same time he felt something a bit like home for the first time in months.  


Brendon closed his eyes tightly, wrapping his arms around Ryan's waist and inhaling the smell of shampoo in his hair. He could feel himself trembling, which was a bit embarrassing, but he hadn't been so happy in months, and he'd almost forgotten what Ryan felt like in his arms. Tightening his hold, he dropped a kiss in Ryan's hair, marvelling at how normal it felt to do it. He didn't dare speak, knowing that his voice would come out shaky and weak, but he knew that this was enough. It surprised him how easy it was to forget everything they'd been through, all the horrible things Brendon had wanted to say only a few months ago, when he was holding Ryan again. God, he'd missed this and hadn't even realized it.  
  
"I missed you," Ryan found himself whispering, making sure he did it before giving himself time to think it through. "So fucking much." He didn't move his face. His cheeks felt too wet and he wasn't interested in Brendon seeing him cry. The tangled nerves and relief and happiness and fear and guilt and everything else were still churning in his stomach and he really was starting to feel a little nauseous. He breathed in deep, fingers clutching at Brendon's shirt for a moment before he convinced them to let go. Finally he pulled back with a covert sniffle, smiling slightly. "Welcome to England."

Brendon smiled sadly, bringing his hands up to cup Ryan's face, wiping away wetness from his cheeks with his thumbs. "I kind of missed you, too," he whispered, offering a lopsided smile. His heart was switching between thundering in his chest and clenching painfully. Sighing, he let his hands fall away and looked around again, taking the time to compose himself. "So, this is where you live, huh?" he asked, chuckling a bit, though it was clear that he was forcing it. "Spencer and Jon made me promise to tell you they say hi and that they miss you first thing, so. Consider the message delivered."  
  
"Thanks," Ryan muttered, feeling a little awkward again and already missing the feel of Brendon's arms around him, Brendon's hands on his face. "Tell them the same when you..." He took a deep breath, looking away for a moment. "Go back," he finally finished, forcing a small smile. "And yeah," he answered. "This is it." He chuckled hollowly. "Not much, but it's... not really home. It's somewhere to be." He shrugged, searching his mind for something to do. "I need to print another copy since I kind of stabbed it with my pencil when you knocked," he explained as he plopped into his computer chair, clicking print again. "You must be tired," he stated. "You should get some sleep and I can show you around tomorrow, or something. Whatever you want to do."

Brendon looked around once more, wondering if he'd missed something. "You know there's only one bed, right?" he asked, sitting down on said bed and kicking off his shoes. He sighed, his feet already feeling a lot better, and flopped down onto the bed to stare at the ceiling. He placed his hands on his stomach, and closed his eyes briefly. He was happy to see Ryan again, but this visit was going to be a bit... well, weird. For both of them, especially if there was only one bed. Maybe Brendon would have to check into a hotel nearby.  
  
"I'll take the floor tonight," Ryan immediately offered, grabbing the pages as they came out of the printer before picking up his pen and writing his signature again, this time without any damage to either paper or pen or his nerves. "Tomorrow we should be able to find some kind of cot, I think. Don't worry about me." He smiled wryly. "Don't worry about it. I'm used to it. My father used to think that taking away my bed for a week if I didn't behave was a much better punishment than grounding me, because it was much more hardening and character-building." He scoffed before blushing, realizing that he was thinking out loud a little again, and that for all he knew Brendon found it offensive for someone to speak about their father in that way. He liked to think he knew the boy pretty well, but he was well aware that he knew far from everything. Besides, it could be something he had become touchy over after his fathers death. Or maybe he wasn't touchy about it at all. Fuck, he was even rambling in his own mind now.

Brendon's eyes darkened at the mention of Ryan's father and he sat up immediately, glaring at Ryan. He clenched his fists at his sides, surprised that he still felt so much anger towards the man. "Don't talk about your father to me," he finally ground out, closing his eyes. He knew it was selfish, but he hated hearing that someone had hurt Ryan, probably for most of his life, and that there was nothing he could really do about it. Maybe he could hire someone and have George Ross killed...? But, no. DURA's military already didn't like him, or Ryan, and that wouldn't do any good.  
  
"Sorry," Ryan muttered. And then he was at a loss for anything else. There was so much left unsaid between them, but he had no idea how to say any of it, or how to go about bringing it up. He stared at his folded hands for several long moment, licking his lip lightly to soothe the spot where his excessive biting had nearly drawn blood. After a moment of grabbing for words to at least get some of the hidden stuff out in the open, he started: "I was the youngest agent in UBI," he stated tonelessly. "Which was probably why they chose me. I mean, I didn't really have any field experience. It was my first assignment. I was so excited, and then I found out what I was supposed to do." He laughed wryly. "I guess I was too immature to realize that any assignment involves actual people, with actual thoughts and emotions and everything, including the agent. I was supposed to make you fall for me so you'd tell me what was going on in the council, and I was nervous as fuck, but at the same time it seemed pretty simple until I was there. I never expected to like Jon and Spencer, I never realized how many people I was going to hurt." He picked at his nail with a grimace, intently not looking at Brendon. "I never expected to be the one falling in love," he finally added, his voice barely even a whisper. It was the first time he'd admitted it out loud, he realized, and he felt both lighter and heavier for it. "I guess what it all comes down to is that I was stupid and naive and... mentally too young to know what I was dealing with, and I'm sorry."

Brendon sighed and looked down at the floor, trying to think of what he could say. He knew that he wouldn't be able to tell Ryan that he loved him, too, because he didn't know how he felt right now. He was still hurt, and the wounds weren't completely healed yet, and he wouldn't lie to Ryan, even if it meant making him happy. He remembered, vaguely, feeling something like love when he and Ryan had had sex. It had been the morning after, actually, when he'd woken up smiling, completely content with his life. He knew that only the people you love had the ability to really hurt you, because they cut close to home, and he had no doubt that what Ryan had done had been agonizingly painful. He just wasn't ready to say the words out loud, yet. Not when there was a chance that he didn't meant them. "I can't say I feel the same," he finally confessed, though the words came out against his will. "I just... don't know how I feel, honestly, and I don't want to lie to you," he said, biting his lip. "Can you... did you sleep with me because of the assignment, or because you wanted to?" he finally asked, his own voice a whisper. He'd wanted to ask the question, properly, for a while, now, even if he knew he might not like the answer.  
  
Ryan felt like something had burst open inside him and started bleeding profusely, but he fought it down, spinning on the chair until he was looking out the window. Of course Brendon didn't love him. You would have to be stupid to love someone you didn't know and the last thing Brendon was was stupid. And he didn't know Ryan, not really. Just a persona. He opted on ignoring the first few comments, didn't really feel like he had the strength to deal with that revelation right at the moment. "That's complicated," he finally stated, one hand clenching the edge of his desk. "I slept with you because of the assignment," he finally admitted. "But I also wanted to, just not under those circumstances. All the lies and you not even knowing my last name, right?" He sucked in a deep breath. "And I know it was my body, but I wanted so badly for it to be my  _mind_  as well, if that even makes sense. You had sex with my body and a person who doesn't even exist, and I couldn't stop wishing it was  _me_."  


Brendon remained silent, knowing he had hurt Ryan, but Ryan's next words also had him shutting his eyes against tears. He sighed softly, then reached over to pull one of his suitcases near, unzipping it and rummaging until he pulled out a pair of pajamas. He made  his way to the adjacent washroom, changing out of the clothes he'd worn all day and splashing some water on his face. Sighing heavily, he crept back into the room and sprawled himself out on the bed, making sure to keep to one side. "Goodnight," he muttered, though he knew he wouldn't be asleep for a while. He was conflicted about what Ryan had said. He  _had_  wanted Brendon, just not then. But he'd still had sex, and it had still been a lie, and it had only been so that he could finish his assignment. None of this made Brendon feel better, even though a soft voice kept telling him that Ryan would have wanted him, and still did, even after the assignment.

It was almost like something else inside Ryan broke when he didn't get any proper response. His whole body seemed to be clenching up. "Gonna go get sheets," he got out before practically running to flee the room, shutting the door tightly behind him. He was a mess, had been since just a bit into the assignment. When he'd first gotten to England they had supplied a psychologist, correctly assuming that he might need some help, but after he had asked the doctor if his father's behavior while Ryan grew up could maybe have made him like boys and the papers the next morning had been filled with speculations about his sexuality and mentions of an abusive past, quickly followed with speculations about his motives for saving the three boys who were all quite a bit younger than him (which he desperately hoped hadn't reached America), he had decided to end sessions. Holding stuff in wasn't that hard when he wasn't confronted with it. Both Brendon's responses and lack of same, though, seemed to have opened a dam in him, no matter how much he knew he deserved it.   


He walked briskly through the dorm house and out onto campus where he quickly made for a corner that was almost always abandoned. And there he finally sat down on a bench, legs pulled against his chest as he took deep calming breaths, even as he was aware of the tears on his cheeks and the December cold stinging since he was only wearing jeans and a t-shirt. He just needed a breather, just for a short while, and then he'd go back.

Though he felt guilty and knew that his lack of response had probably upset Ryan, Brendon simply shoved his face into his pillow and tried his best not to think about it. The plane ride over had him completely knackered, and despite the thoughts rushing through his mind, he was asleep within minutes. 

It was probably close to a half hour later when Ryan finally managed to get up from the bench to slowly make his way back inside. He had himself under control again, fortunately. Actually, he mostly just felt numb. He still had to stop for a moment outside his door, though, before he went back inside and took extra blankets and sheets from the closet and pulled his jeans off so he was simply in t-shirt and boxers. Then he rolled himself into a cocoon in the covers, a rumpled up jacket serving as his pillow where he lay down on the other side of the room. Sleep didn't come until less than an hour before the sun rose.

***

When Brendon woke, the sun was directly above them in the sky, telling him that it was sometime around noon. He quietly rose from bed and immediately made his way to the washroom. He'd have a shower before Ryan even woke up, saving himself the awkwardness of taking a shower with the other boy awake just on the other side of the door, which would in turn make him think to the last time they'd had a shower together. Shivering, he turned on the water and set it to the right temperature before shedding his clothes and jumping in. He made quick work of shampooing his hair and soaping his body, and when he jumped out of the shower, it was to realize that he'd forgotten a change of clothes and to look for a towel, assuming that there'd be one in the washroom. Which there wasn't. Gritting his teeth, Brendon went to the door and opened it a bit, peeking out. It looked as though Ryan was still asleep and so, with a deep breath, Brendon hurried out, covering himself the best he could, and quickly pulled out fresh clothes from his open suitcase. Glancing around, he groaned quietly when he didn't spot a towel, and since he didn't want to spend any more time out in the open, he simply grabbed his clothes, as well as his toiletries and ran back to the washroom. Slamming the door behind him, Brendon made sure to stay in the washroom as long as possible, brushing his teeth and his hair, flossing as well as using mouthwash a couple times, mostly to get rid of the blush staining his cheeks, but also so that he had time to dry a bit before dressing.  
  
As he timidly exited the washroom, he vowed to never take a shower again before completely waking up and thinking everything through. He avoided looking at Ryan, though the boy still  _looked_  asleep, and sat at the desk chair, staring out the window.  
  
The slamming of the washroom door was what woke Ryan, but absolutely exhausted, he didn't move an inch for the longest time. He supposed it didn't help his willingness to wake that he had absolutely no idea how to deal with Brendon, but finally, after a long while the politeness that had long ago been beaten into him took over. He couldn't leave a guest just sitting around while he was (pretending and wishing to be) asleep. With a yawn, he sat up, stretching and feeling the familiar pull in his left shoulder. He still had a scar, and probably would for the rest of his life unless he opted on plastic surgery, which he didn't see that much of a reason to. Besides, there was something kind of symbolic about it in a way, which made him somewhat hesitant in getting rid of it. "Morning," he murmured sleepily, extricating himself from the center of his ball of blankets. He glanced around them room, and then his eyes landed on the clock over his desk and he did a double-take before swearing loudly. He had a lecture in five minutes, and that was less than the amount of time it took to get there. Groaning, he quickly walked to his closet, swung it open and picking out a fresh pair of jeans, quickly hopping into them before pulling off his shirt without giving himself time to consider the fact that he wasn't alone in the room. He threw on another t-shirt followed by a hoodie, a number or two larger than Hastings would wear, but he liked them better like that. He followed up with socks, shoes and a pair of fingerless gloves before grabbing his books and papers. "I have class," he stated. "You can come if you want to, or you can... hang around, I don't know." He turned around to look at Brendon for the first time that day, managing not to flinch as he waited expectantly.

"No, I'll be here when your class finishes," Brendon answered quickly as he turned around to look at Ryan. He let a small smile grace his lips and made a shooing motion with his hands. "Go," he said softly, and watched Ryan leave. He actually kind of felt like just sitting around right now. Ryan could show him around a bit later, but right now the silence would be good for him. And the distance would probably do both of them good.  
  


***  


  
By the third hour alone in Ryan's room, Brendon was getting restless. He'd forgotten to ask Ryan how long his classes were, and since he didn't know when to expect the boy, he'd had to find ways to occupy himself. He'd reorganized his suitcases, which had filled a lot of time, but for the last thirty minutes he'd been doing push-ups. He wasn't very good at them, but he'd taken them up weeks ago when he'd come to the conclusion that exercise helped him think. Often he found himself going for runs when he didn't want to be around Spencer and Jon, because though he loved them, he needed to be alone with his thoughts some times and being inside the house with them wasn't any help. He'd reluctantly taken off his shirt, mostly because he didn't want to sweat in it- old Princely habits he might never fully shake- and was currently right beneath the window, counting between clenched teeth as he lifted his body with his hands. Despite being busy counting, he was thinking about a lot of things, mainly the time he'd spent with Ryan, when they'd become friends and then when they'd started dating. He smiled slightly at the memories and closed his eyes, letting himself get lost within them.  
  


***  


Ryan had been asked to stay after the lecture only to get a faux-sympathetic speech on being on time, which, honestly, annoyed the shit out of him. It was the first time he'd ever been late, and he knew of many others who were late pretty much every single time. But then again, it had given him a little bit longer away from Brendon. It was odd, how ambivalent he felt about it all. He liked the fact that Brendon was there, and the ache he'd had for the last three months had lessened a bit. But at the same time, he was back to having no idea how to act around the boy, which was a little ridiculous. Brendon was eighteen, not even out of his teens, and Ryan was twenty-four, a grown man. Nothing warranted  _him_  being the one acting like a besotted child. But perhaps it was all just because that this morning looking at Brendon had hurt about as much as getting the bullet taken out of his shoulder, except without the relief of knowing that now it could at least get better.

He walked back a bit more slowly than necessary, his feet insisting on shuffling along and his steps getting shorter the closer he got. When he finally pushed open his door he was quite sure it was twenty minutes at least since he'd left the lecture. He entered absent-mindedly, not at all prepared for the image of Brendon working out on the floor, drops of sweat dribbling down soft, pale skin in small rivulets. He'd only seen Brendon so exerted once before, and that hurt too much to think about, so he quickly averted his gaze, clearing his throat. "Since when do you exercise?"

Brendon grunted, shaking out his sweat-drenched hair. "Since I figured out it was an efficient way of clearing my mind when I need to focus or just-- stop thinking," he said, his voice strained and the muscles in his arms clenching. He did five more before collapsing on the floor, panting harshly. He rolled onto his back, throwing one arm over his stomach, and ran a hand through his hair. "I am absolutely, disgustingly, sweaty," he muttered, making a face and staring up at Ryan, who was decidedly not looking his way. "What's wrong?" he asked, still trying to control his erratic breathing.  
  
"If you don't know I'm damn well not about to tell you," Ryan spat before taking a deep breath, shaking his head at himself. Could it be that he was maybe going a little bit crazy? "Sorry," he muttered, running a hand over his face as he turned away, walking into the restroom where he bent down over the sink and turned on the tap, taking several deep gulps of water and making sure to get some on his face as well to hopefully get rid of the blush he could feel rising. It hurt, feeling like he couldn't say anything of consequence to the boy, hardly say anything at all for the fear of being rebuffed or brushed off, but he knew - now from experience - that it hurt more to actually speak his mind what with how Brendon's reactions had proven to be. And he wasn't in a state where he could take a lot more of that pain, so speaking of inconsequential things really seemed like the best idea. If he didn't put his heart and mind more on the line than he already had, he hopefully wouldn't lose too much more of himself.

Brendon sighed, pushing himself up off the floor and grabbing his shirt before walking the few steps to the washroom. Leaning against the door frame, he wiped his face and hair with the shirt before saying anything. "Christ, Ryan," he muttered, shaking his head. "I'm not intentionally trying to hurt you, you know," he said, looking up at the boy in the bathroom mirror, trying to catch his eye. He remained silent for a bit, clenching the shirt in his hands. "Sorry," he finally forced himself to say, thinking that, maybe, he knew what Ryan had been talking about, and that, just maybe, he'd been remembering the night they'd had sex. He had to admit that thinking about it hurt him, as well, and he didn't wish that pain on Ryan, no matter what had happened between them. "And I'm sorry 'bout last night. I just... didn't know what to say, and I figured it would be best if I just kept my mouth shut."  
  
Ryan gave a short chuckle, the bitter sound in it that hadn't been there since they'd been running for their lives. "That's the conclusion I just reached," he stated softly, breathing in deeply. "And I know you're angry and hurt and you have every right to be, but..." He cut himself off, annoyed that he was already breaking the promise he had just made to himself. "Apology accepted," he finally said instead, pulling away from the sink. "Want to see Oxford, then?"  
  
Brendon took a step into the washroom and placed his hand on Ryan's arm, stopping just short of pulling him into his arms. "But what?" he asked softly, still watching Ryan in the mirror and rubbing his hand along his arm soothingly-- or, what he hoped to be soothing. He was angry and hurt, but he didn't want Ryan angry or hurt, if he could help it. He still had things to get over, but if he worked hard enough, he was sure that they could get through it, someday.  
  
Exhaling deeply, Ryan had to keep himself tightly reined in not to lean into the touch like a starved puppy. "But you aren't the only one who got an emotional punch in the face," he concluded, somehow managing to keep his feelings out of his voice. "In probably an entirely different way, but I don't think that makes it hurt less." He grimaced at having most definitely broken it. What was it about Brendon that just made it so hard to hold back? "Sight-seeing?" he asked again, suddenly almost desperate to get out of the stifling, tiny washroom where the atmosphere was threatening to slowly strangle him if he remained.  
  
Brendon sighed loudly and nodded his assent. On an impulse, he placed his hand on the other side of Ryan's head and pulled him closer, placing a kiss on his temple. Which would probably bring out more problems, but all he wanted to do was comfort the boy. "I... might need another shower, though," he muttered, looking down at himself in disgust. "Do I smell?" he sniffed a bit, his brows furrowed in concentration, even when he looked over at Ryan again expectantly. "Oh, and remind me to bring the camera in my suitcase, will you? Spencer'll kill me if I go home without any pictures," he said, smiling slightly as he remembered his friend's threat.  
  


***  


  
It was a week and half before Christmas when Brendon took to holding Ryan's hand while they went out sightseeing. He would press himself close to the other boy, telling himself it was because of the cold, and lace their fingers together awkwardly around thin gloves. Ryan had finished school only a few days ago, and so they spent all of their time in each other's company, which made Brendon happier than he'd been in a long time. They were strolling through a small shopping district, now, and Brendon had leaned his head briefly on Ryan's shoulder when he spotted a bookstore, immediately thinking of Spencer. "I haven't even started my Christmas shopping!" he announced, alarmed. "Shit, what do you think Jon would want? Or his parents!? And there's only a week and some days left!" he moaned and complained, cursing himself. "Alright, well, we need to go shopping, Ryan," he finally said when he'd calmed himself a bit. He turned to Ryan questioningly, looking worried and excited at the same time.  
  
"Yeah," Ryan agreed. "I haven't gotten around to getting anything yet." He winced slightly. "Not that I have that many gifts to buy, but you know." He mentally counted. "Five," he finally stated. "Including Jon and Spencer. So maybe we could help each other. At least I think I know what to get Tobe." He smiled slightly, looking around the stores while he enjoyed the feeling of Brendon's hand in his. It had been so long, and it was definitely more than welcome. He'd missed this kind of closeness ever since revealing his actual identity. And while the nearly two weeks Brendon had been around had been incredibly hard, the hard times were out shined by the good. There hadn't been any fights per se, but there had been snapping, and there had been more of the painful responses or lack of responses. And while Ryan hadn't shut completely off like he had told himself he would, he did control his thinking out loud a little better, which he suspected was for the best of both of them. In a way they seemed to have started from the get-go all over, but at the same time there was so much shit to work through. At least he felt they had made progress. And when Brendon was in a good mood, it was almost like old times, except minus the lies and maybe with a little less touching. Or a lot, whichever. But those times, and there were progressively more of them, made it all worth it.  
  
Brendon smiled widely and tugged Ryan into the bookstore. "I know that Spencer's going to want a book..."  
  


***

"I'm guessing you never did bake cookies for Christmas," Ryan stated, pulling open the oven in the small kitchen he shared with the fifteen other people on his floor of the dormitory building. He sent a grin over his shoulder, in an unusually good mood, and pulled out the batch of finished bakery. Every Christmas he'd spent with his mother they had baked and baked and cooked and cooked and he'd loved it, mostly because he got to spend time with someone he cared about so much. And he supposed that was what he enjoyed about it now, too. Not to mention the taste of fresh cookies. All in all, it wasn't a tradition he planned on ending. "My mom taught me how," he added unnecessarily, but once again he didn't like any kind of real silence with Brendon. It gave him too much time to worry about what Brendon was thinking, or what the former prince was going to do next. He picked up a cookie and offered it to the younger male with a small smile. "Here, taste."  
  
Brendon bit into the proffered cookie without lifting a hand to take it from Ryan. "Mmmm..." he closed his eyes, obviously enjoying it, and smiled. It was true; he'd never cooked for Christmas, or any other occasion for that matter. His mother would sometimes cook when she was at Grace Cottage, but she didn't do it often and she didn't seem the type of person to enjoy cooking, anyhow. "I think I was banned from the kitchen until a few years ago," he chuckled. "One of our cooks was very particular about what and who was allowed in her domain," he rolled his eyes at the last part, falling silent for a few seconds before screwing up enough courage,  _finally_ , to grab the back of Ryan's neck and kiss him hungrily. It was their first kiss that wasn't just a split-second, nervous, peck, and Brendon had wanted to initiate it for a while, now. He still didn't feel all too comfortable, but he couldn't erase the raw need he had for Ryan. It was sudden, and Brendon could still taste Ryan's cookie in his own mouth, but he'd needed it for too long to pass up the chance when he'd screwed up his courage to finally do it.  
  
Ryan felt himself melting into the kiss, hands falling uselessly at his side and his fingers going nearly numb enough to let the cookie drop. He'd managed to lock his knees before they buckled, which, honestly, would have been more than a little embarrassing. But fucking God, it'd been so long and he'd needed it so much. Of course a kiss didn't mean that they were all right and that everything was fixed, but in Ryan's book it most definitely counted as a step in the right direction. And it felt so damn good. Finally, after a few moments for the shock to pass, his body relaxed against Brendon's and his lips started moving, mouth opening pliantly as one arm came up to wrap around the younger male's neck, fingers tangling in his near-black hair. It felt like his brain had shut off, like everything was fading into a colourless haze around him, and he didn't mind it for a second, hardly noticed. At last, something was beginning to feel like home.

Stepping impossibly closer, Brendon slid his hand down to grip Ryan's hip, the other joining as he pulled the other boy towards him, closer, though if they'd been any closer together they would have been the same person. He bit Ryan's lip, a bit harder than he would have normally, and then swept his tongue across it to soothe. He pushed Ryan until his back was pressed against the counter behind them, crushing him against it as he ground his hips down. For a moment, the thought of having hot, angry sex with Ryan flashed through his mind and surprised him enough that he pulled back, gasping, and his eyes wide. His breath hitched as he saw, again, a flash of him and Ryan, sweaty and angry and-- he pushed it away, leaning in again, though the kiss this time was far from as intense and nearly-savage as the previous one had been. He made sure to keep himself under control, brows furrowed in concentration and confusion. He didn't want to hurt Ryan. Did he?

Fighting down the urge to whimper, Ryan simply responded to the kiss at Brendon's pace. He wasn't even sure what it was that had almost torn the sound from his throat, if it were the loss of the intense passion of a moment before, or if it were simply the utter bitter-sweetness of the kiss of now. His eyes were squeezed shut and his free hand had risen of its own volition, settling on Brendon's shoulder where it kneaded unconsciously. Finally lack of air was beginning to make itself felt, and Ryan broke the lip-lock, panting silently as he bowed his head and buried it in the crook of Brendon's neck, his fingers clutching at clothes and skin without his permission. Now that his head was a little less cloudy he was suddenly dead scared that Brendon's mood would change again, that he'd regret it or be angry or find some reason to lash out at Ryan. The tongue that had been in his mouth moments ago could be both honey and poison, as he'd become all too aware, and how much he treasured this moment only made the fear of the next one worse.

Brendon wrapped his arms around Ryan's waist and held him tightly, breathing in the scent of cookies around them. He kissed Ryan's hair, his lips lingering, and sighed softly. He was startled slightly by someone clearing their throat and he turned his head to see someone standing in the doorway, looking sheepish and embarrassed, but also mildly amused. He wondered how long they'd been there. Sighing again, he stepped away from Ryan and grinned, conscious of the girl walking past them and to the fridge, where she took the milk out and poured herself a glass. She stayed for a few moments longer, pretending that it was because she needed to drink, but Brendon could feel her watching. Once she'd left, he chuckled. "Um, okay, then," he said unnecessarily, unsure of what he was talking about. He shrugged and took Ryan's hand, squeezing it before letting go again.

Ryan gave a short, slightly awkward chuckle, feeling cold all over now. Could you seriously be addicted to another person? "Yeah," Ryan muttered, walking back to the counter to put the cookies in a bowl and take out the last batch and setting them out to cool for a little. He couldn't wait for them to get cold so Ryan and Brendon could go back to the dorm room, but at the same time some part of him dreaded it, was nervous enough that his hands almost trembled. "That's Liza," he explained. "Lives two doors down from me. Rumour, not that I pay much attention to that, has it that she's the greatest fag hag this side of York. So she's probably never going to leave me alone now." He winked, attempting to keep calm, or at least seeming it. Then he picked up another cookie and stuffed it in his mouth whole as an excuse not to speak, making a face when his jaw strained.

Brendon was startled into laughter and he brought up a hand to Ryan's face, wiping away a few crumbs from his bottom lip with his thumb. "Good thing she can never have you, then," he mumbled, smiling at Ryan before stepping away once again and letting his hand fall to his side. He snatched up one of the cookies that had been taken out earlier and poured himself a glass of milk, eating the cookie in two bites and then gulping down the milk. "Is there anything better than milk and cookies?" he asked through a mouthful of cookie, then made a face at his absolute lack of manners. Shrugging, he swallowed it down, made an appreciative sound, and then smacked his lips. He looked up at Ryan and smiled again. "Those nearly ready?"  
  
Finally swallowing down the cookie, Ryan looked up, and then stretched out to feel the temperature. "Yeah, I think they're okay," he answered before moving those, as well, from the plate to the bowl. "Come on," he added. "I think I have a jar in the room." He gave a small smile and started to walk out of the kitchen, trying hard to appear a lot more confident than he actually was.  


Brendon hummed absently as he followed Ryan to his room. They were only a few seconds from the kitchen when he snagged his arm around Ryan's waist and pulled him close. He was feeling way too cuddly and snuggly, now, after the little episode in the kitchen. It had scared him a bit, that he could think of-- handling Ryan like that. He'd never thought about it before; he wasn't a sadist, as far as he knew. Even slightly brutal sex didn't hold any appeal. And yet the thought had still come, uninvited and unwelcome. He hoped it would pass soon enough and that he would never think about it again. They arrived at the room and Brendon waited as Ryan opened the door before slipping inside behind the boy. "Your room is going to smell so good," he said, moaning a bit and winking at Ryan.

Ryan laughed briefly, shaking his head slightly. "No thanks to you," he declared. "I always took you for someone who likes to learn, but no, you were entirely content just watching." He flashed a smile over his shoulder to take any possible bite out of the words. He crossed over to his desk where the Christmas patterned jar his mother had sent him stood. It was one of the ones that had been in her home since he was small, and which he suspected had come from his grandmother originally. It had been mailed with a note saying that maybe they couldn't bake together this year, but they could still think of each other and remember happier or easier times as they baked for Christmas separately. It had almost had him in tears. Now he was very grateful to have it, and not just because it was convenient storing space. Once he had put all the cookies in the jar, he went back across the room and quickly entered the circle of Brendon's arms once more, leaning against the firm chest. He found it odd sometimes, when he thought about it, that Brendon was the younger one, by several years, and that Ryan still was the one doing the leaning and receiving most of the embracing, but he guessed some of it was his own fault. Not that it really mattered.

Brendon pretended to be affronted until Ryan stepped into his arms and all was well again. "Alright, you're forgiven," he teased. He pulled back a bit and took Ryan's hand instead, leading him to the bed and sitting down. "So, this is weird, huh? Who would have thought we'd be spending Christmas together, of all the times during the year?" he chuckled softly, thinking back to the present he'd bought for Ryan when he'd been in class one day. He hadn't been sure if he was staying for Christmas, but he'd wanted to buy something just in case. He absently wondered if he should call Spencer and Jon sometime soon. He hadn't spoken to them in about a week, after all, and it was thanks to them that he was here, with Ryan. He should probably buy them something extra special for that.  
  
Smiling softly, Ryan leaned in and pressed a small peck on Brendon's cheek, trying not to think too much about what had happened back then. "Jon and Spencer, apparently," he answered, opting on the easy way out of the question. He pulled back a little, reaching down and grabbing Brendon's hand instead as he tried to remember what it was he had planned to do that day before dinner. And then it finally came back to him and he felt like an idiot for nearly forgetting Brendon's Christmas present. He'd seen what he wanted in a window when they'd been shopping but hadn't wanted to buy it with Brendon around, and it would cost more money than he could probably spare, but he was confident it would be worth it. Now he just had to go get it. "You know," he murmured. "I have to go down to the laundromat and get my clothes done. Can you wait here a bit, maybe?"  


"Sure," Brendon smiled, kissing Ryan's palm before letting his hand go. "Don't worry, I won't eat the cookies... much," he chuckled and let himself fall back onto the bed, watching Ryan leave. 

"There'd better be some left when I get back," Ryan said, mock-sternly, before giving a smile before grabbing his overclothes and keys and heading out the door.

*** 

What with missing the first bus and the next one being cancelled and downtown being incredibly busy on this, one of the last opening days before Christmas, the whole escapade had taken a lot longer than Ryan had expected. At least it had garnered the hoped-for result, he mused as he looked down at the tiny, neatly wrapped package in his hand. The Solomon's Knot was in sheer, blackened silver and worked as an ornament for a simple leather string, the best Ryan had been able to afford. And he hoped dearly Brendon would get it, get the fact that the Knot was believed to have protective abilities, an old talisman, and that Ryan was trying to say that the younger male had been through too much already and that he'd try to keep more from coming that way.

He stuffed the box back into his coat pocket and rushed out of the bus that had finally stopped, practically tearing through campus, the newly fallen snow coming up in small white puffs around his feet as he got closer to his building. Finally he was inside, up the stairs and outside his room, a broad grin of anticipation still on his face as he raised his hand and pushed the door open in front of him. "Hey."

Brendon, who'd been staring out the window and had seen Ryan walk up to the building, had his arms folded across his chest and a wore a frown that could be seen in the window's reflection. "Where've you been?" he asked, keeping control of the anger in his voice, trying to keep it as light as possible. He couldn't believe that Ryan was lying to him again, though. He thought his heart would shatter when he'd seen Ryan trudging up to the building, instead of being down in the small laundry room on this very building.  
  
"Doing the laundry," Ryan answered as nonchalantly as he could, trying to keep the nerves out of his voice. His smile was gone and he was suddenly feeling very anxious. There was something in Brendon's expression he didn't much like, something that indicated another mood change, and he found himself swallowing against the sudden lump in his throat.  


Brendon bit his lip and closed his eyes. He couldn't  _believe_  it! Ryan was fucking lying through his teeth, and he probably knew he'd been caught. He wondered what Ryan had been doing. Visiting someone else? He hoped not. The thought just made him angrier, and more hurt, and Brendon couldn't stand the thought of Ryan with someone else. They were supposed to be getting better! "I thought there was a laundry room in the basement?" he asked, as calmly as he could, but remained facing the window.  
  
"It's broken," Ryan stated immediately. If there was one thing he had become very practiced, and very good, at, it was lying on his feet. Pauses would give it away, and he couldn't really see why he was so desperate to hide that he'd been buying Brendon's Christmas present, but you weren't supposed to tell stuff like that, were you? "Had to go to the laundromat downtown." He shrugged slightly, but he couldn't make his legs move forward, nor move his arm so he could put his hand on Brendon's shoulder. It was as though a sudden cleft had broken out between them, and Ryan didn't know how to cross it, was afraid to by now. He was already too tense, ready to recoil from a verbal beating, and it was all he could do to keep his voice from trembling.  


Brendon chuckled mirthlessly and shook his head. "Wow," he said, finally turning to face Ryan. He threw his hands up into the air and took a step forward. "I can't believe you're fucking lying to me! I can't believe you're doing this again!" he yelled, his whole body trembling with anger. He hadn't meant to yell, he really hadn't, but it just hurt too much that Ryan would do this, that he would start this again, after everything they'd been through. He scrubbed his hands over his face, still shaking his head, and squeezed his eyes shut. Did he really mean that little to Ryan?

At the heightened note in Brendon's voice, Ryan did feel his feet start to back up, even as his body started with every word. By the end of those few sentences he was back by the door, his back pressed firmly against the cool wood and his fingers holding onto the doorframe in an effort to stop them from trembling or racing into his ears to keep the sounds out. "I'm not," he whispered. "I'm not. I'm not like that anymore, this is nothing like it was."  


Brendon shook his head, pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes for a second before letting his hands drop to his sides again. "Why the fuck should I believe you?" he asked, louder than was necessary. "You're still lying to me-- I don't know why, and I don't want to know why, and I cannot fathom why you would do something like this after everything you did--  _everything_  you did to us! And not just you and me! Spencer and Jon, and my whole fucking country!" he yelled the last word, then stood, motionless and panting, watching Ryan push himself against the door. Did he think Brendon was going to hit him? Christ. "And if the machines really are broken, why couldn't you have come up and told me? Not that I'd have believed you anyway-- you realize you didn't bring any clothes with you, right?" he spat, sneering before turning away once again, just his face this time.  
  
Ryan gulped. That was really the one thing he hadn't considered. Why the hell had he thought up a half-assed lie and not been thorough with it? He knew better than that. Closing his eyes for a moment, he finally decided to just go with the truth. That was supposedly always the best policy anyway, right? "I was getting your Christmas present," he muttered weakly. "I just wanted to keep it a secret. I'm sorry."

Brendon stared at Ryan, his eyes traveling down the boy's body, and then he looked back up and nodded. "Right, okay, yeah... that is a much better lie. Too bad a present seems suspiciously fucking absent as well," he sneered, taking another few steps so that his face was only a few inches from Ryan's. "I wish I'd never fucking met you, you fucking lying prick! I don't even understand why the hell you still want to do this to me!" he yelled, and immediately realized that he didn't mean the words. But they had come out, and he was in no state of mind to think of taking them back. He was panting again and looking at Ryan was beginning to hurt, so he turned away and let his head drop into his hands, squeezing his eyes shut against his own words and Ryan's actions.  
  
The hurt ache in his chest came first, but realization quickly followed, and Ryan's breathing got harder and heavier and more painful with each passing second. He knew his eyes were wet when he looked at Brendon, but he was too immersed in himself to care. 'You deserved that', a part of him said. 'Why won't he believe me?' another asked. "What the hell are we doing?' a third demanded. 'How can we hope to have any kind of a relationship like this?'. The rest of him was just in pain, drowning in it, it felt like. The hurt worse than the bullet in his shoulder had, and he felt them make a few new cracks in the foundation that kept him standing, adding to the cracks upon cracks that had formed ever since Brendon showed up. If a few weeks were this bad, how would he survive the rest of his life? The good times might be good, but perhaps he hadn't been right in thinking that they made up for the bad. He was crying, he realized, biting back sobs in a sheer effort of will. Then he walked to his closet and opened it, pulled out Brendon's bag and starting to quickly toss the younger male's clothes in it, blinking aside tears to see properly. He wasn't sure at all if he'd gotten it all, probably hadn't, but he zipped the bag anyway and kicked it to Brendon's feet before looking up to meet the boy's eyes. "Get out," he whispered, trying to keep the pain out of his voice. "Don't come back, please. Just don't." He reached into his pocket and pulled out the neatly wrapped box. He could get two hundred and fifty quid if he went back and returned it, but he couldn't find it in himself to do so. Instead he went to the bag and placed the box carefully down on top before opening his door, holding it open and looking expectantly at the former Prince.

Brendon looked up when Ryan told him to get out, tears shining in his eyes. He watched as the boy packed his things, choking out sobs and shaking his head. He kept pleading, telling Ryan 'no', but it was no use. He looked down at the small present on his bag and covered his face with his hands once again. When he was met with silence, he hesitantly took the handle on his bag, held the present close to his chest, and walked out the door, turning around to look at Ryan. He bit his lip, unable to say anything, and knew he looked a right mess but couldn't bring himself to care.

The moment Brendon had moved through the door Ryan adverted his gaze, shutting the door and locking it, and it felt like he was solidifying the whole worlds that now seemed to lay the distance between them. He stood, staring at the door for long moments that may have been hours, he wouldn't have been able to tell. Finally his knees crumbled and he found himself on the floor, but he didn't quite have the strength to pull himself up. Instead he simply curled up, pulling his knees to his chest and telling himself, over and over, that it was for the best.


	17. Chapter 17

"Everyone seems to love the idea," Spencer whispered from where he sat at Brendon's side. Brendon nodded stiffly, taking a sip of wine, and smiling that dazzling smile reserved for donors and the press when a woman looked his way. She tittered and smacked his arm gently, telling him not to tease. He inclined his head and went back to his meal. It was the first dinner of what he hoped would be many more, with proceeds going towards  _his_  charity; the one he'd been working on, now, for months, preparing everything, telling only the right people about his plans, and getting it up off the ground. The charity sought to help families who had been torn apart by the war between Beauregia and DURA. Spencer was his right hand man, as he'd always been meant to be, and was in charge of activities to help raise funds for children of the war, who'd either lost their parents or their homes. Brendon had been working nonstop for months, now, and it was finally paying off. When he'd imagined life after school, even after Beauregia had crumbled, he'd never imagined himself the President of a NGO. He'd never imagined working in the non-profit sector. And yet... he couldn't see himself doing anything else, now. He was glad, though, when Spencer turned away from him and leaned in towards Jon, conversing in hushed tones that Brendon didn't even try to hear.  
  
"He's been like this since Christmas," Jon was saying, looking rather agitated. He lowered his voice. "He comes back to us, sobbing and pouring his heart out for once, and then he stops talking to us the next day and starts this-- this thing. I'm not..." he sighed, trailing off. "I'm not saying it's a bad thing, the charity, I'm just saying that he's faking it. He's so stiff and cold," Jon shivered and shook his head, popping a piece of carrot into his mouth. "S'not right," he finally mumbled, and Spencer was forced to agree. Though Brendon was doing a lot of good, he was no longer speaking to his friends on a regular basis, and hadn't even spoken to Ryan in over five months. Spencer and Jon had both taken to keeping their worry to themselves, but it was getting harder, especially when they spoke to Ryan at least once a week. Or, Jon did, anyway. Spencer was trying to get Brendon to open up, while Jon seemed to be doing the same with Ryan. It was rather discouraging.  


***  


"They say the first year is the hardest," Brendon said, then looked over at Spencer, squinting in the sunlight. It had been three months, now, since the first charity dinner, and he was helping Spencer organize and build a children's center. Somewhere kids could go after school to swim, do arts and crafts, read, play sports. All for free. He was proud of his friend. He shook his head. "I still think it's the best thing I've ever done."  


***

Ryan groaned and buried his head under his pillow. His head was pounding and his entire body was throbbing with exhaustion and still the screaming. Wouldn't. Stop. Could he get away with throttling the thing? He didn't think so. The quiet he so longed for, and had longed for for four long days now wouldn't come, and he had end-of-term exams to study for and papers to be handed in and Goddamnit, he needed a proper night's rest! He gave another groan and pulled himself out of the soft, inviting bed, deciding to do something about it before the other people in the dorm house came knocking his door down. Again

He reached the drawer that had been softened with blankets and put on the floor in the lack of something better and pulled out the noise machine. Carefully. He wasn't a murderer after all. Then he used the old trick, walking back and forth, rocking, singing a song in a scratchy, sleepy voice. Nothing helped. The screaming didn't even lessen, and by the end of it Ryan had frustrated tears in his eyes and placed the baby back in the drawer before looking up at the clock. It was three in the morning. Ten in the evening in New York. He took a deep breath and picked up his cell phone, pressing in a number he knew by heart by now.

"Hello?" Jon was still laughing about something Spencer had said as he turned his face away and spoke into his cell phone. He hadn't taken the time to check the number, but when he heard the wails in the background, he was confused as to who could be calling him. He didn't have any friends with babies, did he? Frowning slightly, he got up off the couch and walked out of the room, away from the added noise from the television and Spencer's chattering.

"Jon?" Ryan asked, and he knew his voice was frantic and desperate, just as much as he felt, had felt ever since Miriam had knocked on his dorm room door four nights ago and had pushed a bundle of baby into his arms without any explanation other than 'can't take the fucking noise anymore. She's yours now' before she'd run away too quickly for Ryan to catch up with the screaming thing in his arms. "Jon, I need your help, please? Just until the paternity test comes back and I can prove it isn't mine and hand it over to social services? Please? I don't fucking know what to do!" He had to hold back incredibly hard, stay in control, or he'd be sobbing as hard as the kid.

It had been nearly a year and a half since he'd pushed Brendon out of his door, never to see the younger male again outside of television and newspapers. And Ryan had realized that maybe idealism wasn't all it was cracked up to be, maybe Jon had been right all along. Connecting love and sex only led to heartbreak, and while Ryan couldn't say he was interested in falling in love again, being alone in a strange country with all his friends half-way around the world led to an intense loneliness. At first he'd been very hesitant in breaking his own principles, but what did it matter anymore anyway? He didn't have any precious virginity to preserve now, and he'd already learned that the most painful kind of relationship and sex was when you loved the other person. The loneliness and the shattering of his ideals had led to a string of relationships, none of them lasting more than a few weeks at most, and he supposed that since the baby was apparently around three months old and Miriam had been the flavor of the week around a year ago that it wasn't logically impossible. But there was no way it could be true. He wasn't a father and all he had to do was wait for the DNA test to come back and prove it.

"Fuck, Ryan," Jon whispered, jogging to his room so that he could have some privacy. He slammed the door shut and plopped down into his computer chair, running a hand through his hair. "First of all, if that baby feels in any way that you don't care about it, it's not going to stop crying. So you're going to stop this stupid fucking denial and we're going to assume, for now, that the baby is yours," he sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. "Second, you're going to tell me when and where you want me to meet you, and we're going to talk about this when I get there. That clear?" he figured since Ryan had listened to orders his whole life, maybe this straightforward approach would help calm him. He'd have to find a suitable excuse for Spencer and Brendon about this sudden departure, because he would  _not_  be telling Brendon about this, but Jon knew that Ryan needed help and was willing to provide it. He knew that he was making it sound like Ryan lived a few streets away, instead of a whole ocean, but he thought that making things sound simpler might help, as well.

"She can't..." Ryan murmured. "It can't, it's not... fuck... no..." His eyes were drooping again, but at the same time he was on the edge of a nervous breakdown, breathing a little too quickly before he finally managed to just focus on Jon's voice, face buried in his hands as he slowly calmed down. "My dorm room," he finally answered before letting out a laugh that bordered on hysterical. "A fucking ninety-five square meter dorm room with a fucking baby," he got out, one tear making its way out of his eye. "I've slept five hours the last four days," he added, maybe unnecessarily, but his thoughts weren't exactly making sense at the moment. "As soon as possible, please?"

"Alright, alright, I'll be there," Jon said, then hung up and sighed. He'd take the next plane out.

***

"That her?" he asked, immediately realizing how stupid the question sounded. Of course it was  _her_. Ryan didn't have other random babies stashed in his room. He bent down to peer at her and refrained from saying that she looked like her father. Ryan would definitely not appreciate that. "I, uh... told Spencer, who'll probably tell Brendon, that I came down to help you move into an actual house. I don't know, it seemed like it made sense at the time, though..." he said, ran a hand through his hair before looking up at Ryan. "I brought some money and stuff, so if ever... you know," he shrugged uncomfortably and turned back to the baby. "What's her name?" he asked quietly, wondering if she even had one yet. He'd arrived about half an hour ago, a day and a half after Ryan's phone call. He'd been worried as hell the whole plane ride, but now that he was here, he was sure Ryan would pull through, somehow.

"Yeah," Ryan muttered, blinking slightly, beyond grateful that the baby was quiet for once. "And thanks, for the money. I'll pay you back once I make some." He took a deep breath, raking a hand through his hair only to realize that it was tangled and starting to get greasy. He was in quite desperate need of a shower, really. And a proper meal. "Miriam, her mother, she didn't tell me if she did. She didn't tell me anything, just pushed the baby on me and left." He sighed, glancing down at the tiny face. "And I figured that it wouldn't make much sense to name her before I know for sure if she's... you know." He shrugged and gave a vague smile. "Thanks for coming over," he said, exhaling deeply. "I don't know what I'd have done this last day if I hadn't known you were on your way." And fuck, did he feel pathetic? In less than four months he'd be twenty-six years old, and at the first sight of serious trouble he called his twenty-year-old friend for help. Such a grown-up thing to do. At the moment he didn't feel much like a grown-up at all, though.

Jon sighed, turning towards Ryan fully and pulling him into a hug. "You should name her, yeah?" he said softly, wrapping his arms tightly around Ryan's shoulders. "Unless you made it a habit of sleeping with someone who also made it a habit to sleep around quite a lot..." he trailed off and pulled away, sighing. "Since when have you been sleeping with girls, anyway, Ross?" he asked, deciding that he wouldn't mention how utterly devastated Brendon would be. It was really none of his business, anyway.  


"Yeah," Ryan agreed with a hard, mental sigh, in context also agreeing to the fact that the chances of it not being his child wasn't really big at all. Even though they were still the milky blue that nearly all babies shared, the eyes already had the tell-tale almond shape that no Ross could escape. "I actually went to Beauregia quite convinced I was completely straight," he stated, pushing up the sleeve of his shirt that had started to come down. "Turns out I'm bi," he finally concluded with a mirthless laugh. "Best of both worlds, except if I'd been entirely gay at least I wouldn't have been able to knock anyone up." He walked over to the drawer again, bending down and picking up the girl who had started to look a little restless. After nearly six days of almost constantly pretty much getting his eardrums shattered he'd started to pick up on the small signs of impending screaming. He fingered the soft bits of downy blond on the baby's head carefully with his free hand. "How's..." He thought for a moment, trying to remember the proper names. It was a family tradition on his mother's side that at least one name be Gaelic as a reminder of their roots, a tradition he could thank for being Ryan rather than simply George Junior. "Keely?" he finally half stated, half asked. "Keely... Lucía..." He took a deep breath, looking away from the baby. It still didn't feel quite real at all. "Ross," he concluded.

Jon snorted at the names. He liked them, it just seemed odd for Ryan to be saying these things. "Well, she's beautiful," he assured, smiling a bit. He was a bit uneasy at the thought of Ryan sleeping with anyone else but Brendon, but Ryan was old enough to be making his own decisions and he was in no place to judge. He hefted the baby from Ryan's arms and held her against his chest, her head resting on his shoulder. "Don't tell anyone, but my grandparents used to babysit kids all the time-- I'm kind of an expert," he boasted, winking at Ryan before walking around the room a bit, a spring in his step to lull the baby as he rubbed her back gently. "What have you been feeding her? And you know how to properly change a diaper, right? Also, we'll need to buy a proper crib, and some clothes..." he trailed off and looked at Ryan, eyebrows raised. "You ready for this?"   


Being as tired and still half in shock about it all, Ryan couldn't really muster up the energy to start really thinking about all those things, never mind the probably much longer list of things he also had no idea about. "If she really is mine," he said, and knew the moment the words left his mind that they were of no real consequence. "Then I don't want her raised by strangers." He sucked in a deep breath, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Besides, mid-twenties is supposedly the best time to raise kids, right? At least I'm not a teenager anymore." He shrugged slightly before nodding. "I'll do it, yeah. I have no idea what 'it' actually entails, but I'll learn and I'll do it. I may not have planned for this, but she isn't supposed to be paying for my mistakes, is she?" The question was really rhetorical and Ryan believed they both knew that, but it was really the best reasoning he could come up with.

Jon smiled at Ryan, glad to hear he was taking responsibility. It had been exactly the right answer. He kept walking around, rocking the baby gently, and humming to her. He broke off a few seconds later, turning to Ryan and grinning. "Wish I had Brendon's voice right now-- I bet that would put her right to sleep," he said, the chuckled softly and went back to his humming. Brendon. He wondered how the boy would take it, and knew right away that it would probably involve a lot of screaming and breaking things if he were ever told. Either that, or he'd bottle everything inside and simply refuse to talk about it. Both were possible when it came to Brendon. 

Even after all these years Ryan felt something inside clench at the mere mentioning of Brendon, and with how tired he was he was having trouble controlling his own reactions and turned his face away so Jon wouldn't see. Not that Jon would notice anyway, absorbed as he was in the baby. And what was that? Was he seriously becoming jealous with a baby, and one that was more than likely his own at that? Pathetic, so fucking pathetic. He held back a yawn by sheer force of will, rubbing his face with one hand. "I hate having already asked so much of you, and you've come all the way over and I ask more, but could you maybe watch her for a bit so I can get a couple hours' sleep and a shower?" he asked, hoping that his words were making sense at the moment. He wasn't sure at all, what with how fried his brain felt.

"No problem," Jon answered cheerfully, trying to maybe make Ryan feel better. He hated seeing the guy like this, had grown rather fond of him despite how cold he'd been during school. He smiled at Ryan, knowing that something was wrong, but he didn't push it. It wasn't the time, what with Ryan practically dead on his feet. "She'll be just fine," he assured, then smiled down at the tiny girl in his arms. "She's such a well-behaved little girl, after all," he cooed, which he knew must seem so unlike him. He usually didn't like when people spoke to their kids like idiots, but she was just too cute and he'd had the urge to coo ever since he'd picked her up.  
  
Ryan shook his head, convinced he was dreaming or seeing things or something because Jon seriously hadn't just cooed and nearly used baby speak. He blinked a few times to gather his wits, mumbled a thank you before staggering to his bed. He'd have preferred taking a shower first, but he was simply too exhausted to do anything other than kick off his shoes and crawl beneath the covers before he was out like a light.  


***

"Those girls who live a few doors down-- the ones who work at the restaurant down the street? They wanted to know if you'd let them look after the baby sometime," Jon announced one night as they were sprawled on the couch, eating dinner. The baby had been fed and put into her crib (Jon had finally broken down and nearly bought out a baby store, on top of having rented an apartment with Ryan, about two months ago) and she was now sleeping soundly, thank God. He glanced over at Ryan, thinking, not for that first time, how comfortable they looked, living together. He didn't mention that the girls downstairs had thought them a couple-- he didn't think Ryan would find it nearly as funny as he had.  


"Those three who are giggling and hiding faces in each others' hair every time I see them?" Ryan asked, one eyebrow cocked in half amusement and half confusion. "I think they'd have to prove to a certain state of maturity before I let them alone with her." He snorted slightly. "I will never understand girls." He rolled his eyes with a small smile and took another bite out of his sandwich, chewing slowly and relishing it. It had been several weeks since the test results had come back, telling Ryan what he already knew: Lucía was indeed his. Then he had searched every hospital in the area for records on when a Miriam Martin had given birth and had finally found out that Lucía's birthday was February sixteenth. Nearly all the papers were finally drawn out, but he remembered clearly a conversation with one of the social workers who'd helped him go over the papers. Children of single parents were always more at risk because their safety net was halved. If something happened to Ryan she could very easily end up in the sometimes brutal foster care system, and despite the fact that he still didn't quite know what to make of the situation, that idea didn't sit very well with him. He'd thought it through a lot, and all he needed now was to ask Jon and hope he agreed. Ryan cleared his throat and looked up through his bangs. "Jon, I was wondering... I know it's a lot to ask, and I owe you so much already as it is..." He took a deep breath. "Would you be Lucía's Godfather?"

Jon, who'd been chuckling quietly, looked up in surprise. Him? Someone's Godfather? He stared at Ryan for what seemed like a long time before he nodded slowly, a smile playing on his lips. "Yeah, Ry-- I'd love to," he said quietly, and he felt touched that Ryan thought highly of him; he would never have even dreamed of someone asking him to take on such responsibility. But he was happy for it. He really did love Lucía, as much as he would love his own child. He grinned and shook his head ruefully. "You're going to make me cry, Ross," he chuckled and sighed loudly, finishing off his own sandwich. He wanted so badly to call Spencer and tell him the good news, and his smile faltered a bit when he remembered that he couldn't. But Spencer would have been so happy for him! And Spencer loved kids, worked with them everyday, and he would have been ecstatic to meet Lucía. He was also missing Spencer more and more these days. He hadn't been away from the other man for more than a few weeks in the past six and a half years. But he knew that Ryan needed him, and that Spencer, more than anyone, understood that.

Ryan grinned and reached over with one hand to pat Jon's shoulder. "Not feeling so manly right now, Walker?" he asked with a slight chuckle, which quickly died down to just a regular, soft smile. "Thank you," he muttered. "You have no idea how much that means to me. And I don't think I could've chosen anyone better." Another lopsided grin grew on his face. "You may not have even hit twenty-one yet, but you've been there for her since I first called you. And you're basically the one who's taught  _me_  to take care of her. I think that's more than even most forty-year-old Godparents can brag about." He took the last bite, finishing his sandwich and washing it down with a gulp of chocolate milk. "At the risk of sounding even sappier: I couldn't have done this without you."

Jon smiled, reaching over to ruffle Ryan's hair. "I'm glad I could help," he said, turning away for a moment to watch the tv. "And she's not that fussy once her father knows what he's doing," he laughed, winking at Ryan as he remembered the first few weeks which had, literally, been hell. Lucía had cried so much, and they'd almost run out of money with the amount of food, diapers and other essentials they'd had to buy. Other students had come knocking down their door, telling them to keep it quiet or get out. They'd finally done the latter and bought the apartment. But she was behaving well, now, because she had the undivided attention of her father and Godfather. God, he was a Godfather! He'd never get over it.

"Yeah," Ryan agreed with a small smile. "I guess she really is a good girl once you get to know her."

*** 

Lucía was seven months old when she stopped being an inconvenience and became the person Ryan loved most on Earth. It wasn't an Earth-shattering moments by any means, but it would always feel that way to him. He returned from a lecture, tired and prissy to find Lucía sitting in her playpen, knocking a stuffed toy silly against the floor. Jon was nowhere to be seen, and Ryan got rid of his jacket and walked over to check on the baby when she suddenly looked up, her eyes big and honey brown and identical to his own. Then she lit up in a toothless grin and opened her mouth. "Dada," she babbled. "Dadadadadada." And that was it. He melted into a puddle of goo and had her scooped up in his arms before he was even aware of doing so, holding her as close as he dared. He wasn't sure he'd ever be able to let her go.

Jon came out of the kitchen, a dish cloth hanging from his shoulder and his hands soaked, to see Ryan cuddling his daughter like a father should. He smiled widely, watching them both for a moment. Was it weird that he was proud of Ryan for this? That he almost felt like a parent, watching his child hold their child? He frowned a bit, trying to remember when he'd started caring about both Ryan and Lucía  _this_  much. It made his heart clench and his longing for Spencer only grew. Ryan was who he saw everyday now, who he could talk to and laugh with. Spencer had been that person for so long, except that he'd also been so much more. It made Jon want to pick up the phone and hear his friend's voice, but he restrained himself. Talking to Spencer would only make him miss the boy more, which wasn't what he wanted right now. Drying his hands on the cloth, he walked forward a bit, smiling again. "Well," he said, trying to lighten his own mood. "Aren't we domestic and cozy."

Ryan turned around with a huge smile on his face, grinning at Jon. "She called me Dada!" he exclaimed proudly, and he didn't think he'd ever stop smiling again. "Can you believe it?" he asked on. "I just came in and she looked up and really  _recognized_  me, and she called me  _Dada_!" He knew he was rambling a little, but seriously, if this moment wasn't one to ramble, then he didn't know what was. "Such a clever, little girl," he murmured, grinning down at the baby and brushing a long finger over her tiny, soft, round cheek. And so beautiful, he mentally added, but didn't say it out loud. He had probably used up his mushy quota for the day.

Jon grinned and made his way over, softly stroking her hair. "That's great," he murmured, smiling up again at Ryan. "And of course I can believe it. You're a great father, and you've been taking care of her so well. She recognizes you as someone who loves her and keeps her safe..." he trailed off, kissing Lucía's tiny head and then slapped Ryan on the back. "Congrats,  _Dad_ ," he said, then chuckled and went back to the kitchen to start cleaning again. It was amazing how responsible he'd become in the last months, and even more amazing was the fact that he kind of liked it.

"Thanks," Ryan murmured, blushing slightly even though he'd only been listening with half an ear, so absorbed in his daughter. He did disagree with Jon on one point, though. He hadn't been a good father and had really only loved her out of duty. He knew that, even if his friend was too nice to say it out loud. But that would end now, he promised himself. He would be the very best father any child could ever wish for, and he'd always love her more than anything. Maybe some day he'd find a significant other with whom it would be good and actually  _last_ , but his baby girl would always be the highest ranking love of his life.   


*** 

_"You are coming back right this instant, Jonathan Walker, because I am not letting Brendon ruin his life!"_ Jon, who'd been holding the phone away from his ear because of Spencer's shrieking, could distinctly hear Brendon in the background, as well.  _"I'm not ruining my life, Spencer!"_  And then Spencer was yelling at Brendon again, though he obviously hadn't bothered to turn away from the phone, and Jon was laughing silently. He still didn't know what the problem was but, somehow, Brendon had succeeded in royally pissing Spencer off. Jon held up a finger to Ryan before walking out of the living room and to his own bedroom so that he could talk to Spencer in peace.  
  
"Alright," he said, sighing. "Tell me what's going on."  
  
By the end of the conversation, Jon was siding with Spencer and agreeing to come back to New York for a bit. When he hung up the phone, he cursed loudly, and then apologized just as loudly because he hated cursing where the baby could hear him. He walked back to the living room and looked at Ryan wearily as he flopped down onto the couch and rubbed his eyes. "So, I'm gonna have to go back to New York for a bit... seems there's a bit of a problem and my help is required," he said cryptically, shaking his head and rolling his eyes. "You gonna be okay alone for a while?"  
  
Ryan felt a small stab somewhere in his gut at the prospect of being alone again. Lucía was there, which was most important, but he couldn't speak with her and get the same feeling of having people around him. He did understand, though, and put on a smile. "I understand," he stated. "And obviously we'll miss you, but it's not like we're the only people depending on you." He patted Jon's shoulder. "We'll be all right, though. So long as you make sure to come back and visit once in a while." Because Ryan knew that maybe it was Jon's intention to come back soon and stay with them again, but he also knew that wouldn't happen. He wasn't blind to how much Jon had missed home, or to the longing looks every time Spencer was mentioned. Ryan and Lucía didn't need him as much anymore, and Jon knew that. He would stay in New York, and Ryan already missed the way things were.  


"Okay," Jon said quietly, and wasn't at all surprised by how much he would miss both Ryan and his Goddaughter. He took a deep breath before wandering out of the living room and to Lucía's room. He wanted to say goodbye to her before he even thought about getting his plane tickets and leaving.

***  


  
Brendon had made his decision and it was final. Spencer couldn't change his mind, and neither could Jon, despite the fact that he'd come back at the drop of a hat. He had met with ten women, had dinner with all of them, interrogated them, and then made up his mind. His decision's name was Jennifer Morrison, but she'd told him repeatedly to only call her Jenn, or else. (Brendon had taken that 'or else' seriously because of how scary she'd looked while saying it). She had long, smooth, dark-brown hair and dark, sparkling eyes. She reminded him of Jon in a way because she could go from joking around to serious in the blink of an eye, and then she reminded him of Spencer because when she spoke about something she cared about deeply, her eyes would get a far away look and she would smile to herself, as though forgetting Brendon were sitting right in front of her. She worked in a law firm as a temp, was in her last year of law school, and was exactly twenty four years and three months old. She had studied for years in France and had a slight accent. Brendon immediately fell in love with her.  
  
"I'm not exactly sure how to do this," he finally confided one evening, on their third 'date'. Jenn had smiled and laughed and admitted that she didn't really know what to do, as well. A week later, they had made an appointment with a clinic to get all the information they would need, and they were back less than a month later to do the deed. Brendon held Jenn's hand until he was told to follow a stern-looking nurse. He kissed Jenn's cheek quickly and got up, knowing that what he was about to do would change the rest of his life.  
  


***  


  
Brendon invited Jenn to move in with him four months in. He was constantly scared for her well-being and, since he'd finally bought his own house, had more than enough room for her. She spent most of her time in her room, working for the firm from her laptop, and even enrolled in a woman's only specialized swimming class.  
  
"We all spend the whole class complaining about our feet, or eating habits, or our bladders," she said one night, and then threw her head back, laughing loudly. Brendon chuckled and then took her hand, lacing their fingers together and resting them on her stomach. She smiled and shushed him, though he hadn't been talking, and stayed still for a few minutes until both of them looked up at the same time, she with tears in her eyes and Brendon looking horrified. "Felt that, did you?" she asked, though the answer was quite obvious. Brendon, eyes still wide, nodded. "Happens a lot, especially when I'm very quiet. I think the baby likes it when we talk," she murmured and smiled when Brendon twisted around and put both of his hands on her stomach, leaning forward and placing his ear close, as well. There was another faint thump to his right palm and he looked up at her, grinning widely.  
  
"That's..." but he was at a loss for words. He hadn't counted on liking Jenn so much; hadn't even planned on being around for the pregnancy, but when the doctor's had confirmed that the insemination had been done correctly, he wouldn't have it any other. His baby was in there. Something that was his and only his, that he could take care of and love and spend his whole life with. He wouldn't, of course, spend his whole life with his baby, because, well, they didn't stay babies very long. He'd started this in the hopes of having an heir, someone to carry on his name, but now... now it was so much more. He laid his head on her stomach, very gently, and hummed, letting his eyes flutter close as Jenn gently ran her hand through his hair.  
  


***  


  
Jenn, who'd gone to her Obstetrician earlier, knocked softly on Brendon's bedroom door, grinning from ear to ear when he opened the it. Slipping past him, she sat on the bed with a bit of difficulty seeing as she was in her last two months, and patted the spot beside her for Brendon to join. He sat, a bit reluctantly, wondering what she had found out, and put a hand on her stomach, which was almost a reflex by now. "What is it?" he finally asked, confident that it couldn't be bad news if she was smiling this much. She patted his hand and chuckled a bit, kissing his cheek.  
  
"I'm giving you a boy," she said proudly, choking out a surprised laugh when Brendon suddenly hugged her tightly, repeating 'thank you' over and over.  
  


***  


  
"Looks a bit like an alien, doesn't he?" Brendon said as he held his son for the first time, peering down at his wrinkled, red, face and looking very confused and unsure of himself. Jenn chuckled from her place on the bed, exhausted, and shook her head. Brendon could see that she was tired, but he also knew that she was probably just realizing that their time together was over. He'd made her promise, had made himself promise, that he wanted to raise his son on his own, and he wouldn't marry Jenn, or even live with her when he didn't love her. He didn't know yet if he wanted his son to know his mother, and it made his heart thud painfully when he thought of parting ways with her. But he'd said it in the beginning; no involvement. "Do you want to name him?" he finally asked, voice no higher than a whisper. He almost regretted saying it when she started crying, but saw that she was nodding as well, so he walked closer and let her hold the baby. She sniffled a bit, telling him how pathetic she was, and then was silent, until:  
  
"Isaac."  
  


***  


  
"I would like you both to meet Isaac Spencer Ezekiel Beauregard."  
  
Spencer and Jon stared at Brendon as though he'd grown at extra head until Spencer promptly buried his face in his hands. Brendon thought he was ashamed until he heard Spencer sniffle loudly and then everything was right again. Jon came closer, smiling a little secretive smile, and congratulated Brendon on actually making a right choice. Brendon smiled widely, and then let Jon hold Isaac. Jon smiled as he brought the baby over to Spencer, who still had tears running down his cheeks, and who cooed over the baby for the next several hours. Brendon sat, a proud and happy father. A  _father_!

  
  
  


***

 

In January of the year Lucía would turn two - Ryan's fourth year of university, Tobias got married. Ryan had gotten an invitation, sure, but it was clearly an empty gesture, seeing as how he was clearly unable to get to New York. Over the years Ryan had started to realize that being best friends with Tobe had really been a thing that was highly dependant on time and place, rather than actual compatibility, and while he would always count the older man among his friends, he couldn't really call him 'best friend' anymore. Ryan's best friend would probably be Jon, honestly, even though Jon's best friends would always be Brendon and Spencer, which made Ryan kind of a pathetic person, but there wasn't really a lot to be done about that. Not being Tobias' best friend anymore, though, was really solidified when, instead of leaving the slot symbolically empty, Ryan's former roommate had written page up and page down about how great his brother-in-law-to-be was, and how he was going to be Tobe's best man. Ryan knew he shouldn't be hurt, not really, especially since Jon, not Tobias, was Lucía's Godfather (which was entirely deserved. Ryan's little girl should have someone who would always be there for her and would cross an ocean in a moment's notice if she needed him, not someone with his own wife, starting his own family. Ryan wanted Lucía to be first priority, nothing less was acceptable. And Jon was the person who'd been there for her the very most the first year of her life. Even though he wasn't very old yet, Ryan didn't believe he could possibly find a better Godparent if he tried). Still, though, he did feel a little hurt, and slightly angry and very overlooked.

Still, the day of the marriage Ryan was angry and restless and not in the best mood for being around a toddler, so he called the sitter and went out to hopefully be able to shut out the thoughts of what was going on on the other side of the Atlantic. He opted not to take the bus downtown and instead walked to the bar just outside campus, one favored by the university students and which Ryan didn't like so much because they all tended to be so much younger than him, making him feel out of place, but it didn't matter much. He walked up to the bar and reached into his pocket for his wallet, only to realize he must've forgotten it. And suddenly he was torn between screaming the head off the small, decidedly innocent, female bartender and running out to wreck the whole damn town. He was starting to breathe heavily, but then a hand descended on his shoulder, warm even through his layers of winter clothes, and he looked over his shoulder. The calm, kind face of the stranger calmed him down more quickly than he could've ever anticipated.

"Forgotten your wallet?" the guy asked in a deep tone, and Ryan could only nod, the fury disappearing like ice under a summer sun. The stranger grinned slightly, removing his hand. "Not to worry," he said, his voice expressive and definitely nice. "I just got a five hundred quid paycheck, and I'm in my generous state." A broad smile lit up his face. "What would you like?"

Ryan wasn't about to question the out-of-the-blue kindness of some guy he'd never even seen before, so he smiled back. "Rum and coke," he answered. "Easy on the coke," he added with a wink.

"You heard the bloke," the stranger told the bartender, still wearing that brilliant grin. "And a pint of Guinness for me, please." With that he gently gripped Ryan's upper arm and led him to an empty booth.

"Thank you," Ryan said without preamble, sliding into his seat. "I'm having a lousy day. Really needed that."

The man shrugged. "As I said," he started in a distinctly, but not all too shabby, Midlands accent. "Just got paid today, and more than I expected, too. Celebrating alone int much fun."

Ryan grinned, leaning back, more comfortable than he remembered ever being around a stranger. "Ryan," he introduced himself, offering his hand. "Ryan Ross."

"Jakob Larsson," the man returned, grasping Ryan's hand in a firm grip and giving it a small shake. "Call me Jaken."

***

Jaken Larsson, Ryan later learned, got his Scandinavian last name, blond hair and pale skin from his Swedish father. He was a fourth year photography major, fine arts minor, and was twenty-four, having traveled for two years after finishing grammar school before he went on to university. Jaken was tall, had nearly four inches on Ryan's respectable five feet eleven, and was broad and muscular without ever looking pumped or fake. A bit like Jon, Ryan supposed. He had light blond hair in a bowl-cut that would have looked ridiculous on most people but suited him so well that Ryan couldn't imagine it being different. He had long, strong fingers that were as fit for holding paint-brush and easel as they were for his preferred media, the camera, and a slim face with a strong jaw, prominent cheekbones, high forehead and a long, narrow, arrow-straight nose. His eyes were a nearly turquoise blend of blue and green, a beautiful, cold color, which, however, couldn't hope to be as expressive as warm browns. His lips were thin, mouth a little bit too broad, and much better fitted for talking and laughing and smiling than pouting or sulking. He was also the kindest, gentlest, most easy-going guy Ryan had ever met, and didn't seem to really have a temper at all, artist or not. And then there was his winning point: he adored children and had fallen in love with Lucía the moment he saw her. And since the feelings seemed to go both ways, it was a definite win.

They got together in early February, and in July that marked the longest relationship Ryan had ever managed to maintain. If he were honest, he wasn't actually  _in_  love with Jaken. He cared for him deeply, but there were no fluttery love-of-my-life feelings in his chest and stomach. But he was comfortable and happy and content, the sex was good, and he didn't wake up every morning to see his boyfriend and realize how much he hated himself, so perhaps 'true love' was really just an old wives' tale anyway. Jaken felt the same way. They'd discussed it and easily agreed that they were both enjoying the status quo. That was another thing Ryan really enjoyed about being with Jaken. They were open and honest and easy about being that way, and Ryan had never before felt like he could tell someone else every single thing he thought or felt and not be judged for it before, but that was how it was now, and even if they didn't last as boyfriends, he suspected their friendship would last the rest of their lives. He had no objections at all to that.

Also in July, a few days after Jaken's twenty-fifth birthday, came the request that would define a large part of the rest of Ryan's life. It was at the breakfast table, while feeding Lucía milk-softened cereal and lazily getting some toast down themselves, thoroughly enjoying the summer break when the younger of the two adults looked up with a sort of calculating look that didn't really fit him very well. Jaken was incredibly intelligent, but rarely calculating or plotting. "You've gotten pretty good with the composition stuff, haven't you?" he asked. "I mean, what I've heard is bloody brilliant, so..."

"Yeah?" Ryan answered, looking up from feeding his daughter, one eyebrow cocked inquisitively. "I guess after having had to do them so much for the last four years I'm a little seasoned. At least they finally let us start up on contemporary music last year, thank God. Why?" 

Jaken shrugged slightly. "I know you've already got enough to do with your time," he stated. "But my little brother is in this band,  _Dame of Spades_ , and they're starting to get quite a bit of recognition. The problem is that they don't really have a competent song-writer, so they mostly do covers. A couple of weeks ago a record level agent told them that with their musical talent and ability to connect with the crowd, the only thing stopping them from getting signed is the fact that they play mostly covers and their own songs just aren't that good." He was looking both hopeful and eager now, but with the same underlying calmness as always, letting Ryan know that whatever his reaction, they were still fine. "It's his dream, Ry, it's what he's wanted to do his whole life, and now there's just this one obstacle. So... would you consider maybe writing them an album? I know it sounds like a lot, but it would only be lyrics and vocal arrangements and tips about tempo and effects. They can easily write their own instrumental lines themselves."

It was summer, and Ryan supposed he could use a project to spend some time on. Not to mention how much getting some practice in might help him the coming term. And of course there was the fact that he actually liked writing music. Quite a lot. All in all it didn't sound like such a bad idea. "I'll need to meet them and discuss genres and literary themes and style and... yeah." He smiled, and Jaken grinned back, obviously understanding that this was Ryan's clumsy way of accepting.

***

Ryan's fifth year of university started and in October he and Jaken parted amicably, although being Jaken's boyfriend and not being Jaken's boyfriend weren't much different. When the younger man stayed over he slept on the couch now, and they didn't kiss anymore, not as much as least. Snuggling was still on - Ryan wouldn't know what to do without the touch anyway. Their friendship carried on as Ryan had predicted, and at long last the empty best friend spot in his life was filled. They didn't sleep together anymore. Well, not as much, anyway, but they were as comfortable around each other as always.

The album had been written over the summer break, and after the band had promised Ryan twenty per cent of everything they ever made on the songs he hadn't really heard from them again, but he'd had fun, enjoyed doing it, so he didn't really mind that he hadn't seen any money. Despite being busy with Lucía and passing everything in his final year, he still felt like he needed a hobby, and one thing seemed to come naturally. One Word document was always open on his laptop, and in between papers and lectures and spending time with his daughter he'd sit down and write sporadically, sometimes just two sentences at a time, sometimes two chapters in a single night. It grounded him and in an odd way gave him something to look forward to after a rough day.

He finished the book in March and on a spontaneous decision sent it to a publishing house under the name Ryan Hastings. It had been all he could come up with, and he sure as hell didn't want it to get published or later sold simply because people remembered Ryan from his 'fifteen minutes of fame'. He didn't really pay it much heed, didn't have time since he was suddenly buried in finals and hundred-page-long reports and sheet music and who knew what.

In the beginning of June he turned on the radio and thought he recognized the song that was playing. The next day a small package arrived, containing a CD, a check that was good for 4000 pounds and a short letter.

_Dear Ryan_

 

_We finally got the deal negotiated home a few months ago and have been in the studio since. We didn't want to contact you before we knew anything definite. It doesn't get a lot more definite than a single out and an album in a few months._

 

_Along with this letter you'll find twenty per cent of what the contract alone brought us home. You'll keep getting your share of the royalties and the future ticket sales, and it won't be nearly enough. Thank you so much. Without you we wouldn't be where we are now, and we couldn't be more grateful._

 

_\- Mark, Allan, Mathias and Pattie_

 

**_Dame of Spades_ **

He could hardly believe his eyes, hadn't had any idea that the songs had been  _that_  good. But then a deep feeling of pride and accomplishment unlike any he'd felt in years welled up in him. He was beyond happy, for the band and for himself. And when he took Lucía to the new kid's themed restaurant downtown that evening he didn't even feel guilty about overspending.

A week later the publishing house sent back his manuscript full of yellow sticky-notes and margin scrawls and a letter saying that if he edited it satisfactorily he had a deal. And then a a band manager called and said that his boys were having trouble writing the album, and was he available to help sometime in July? Ryan's future was suddenly set within the space of a few weeks, and he didn't mind the prospects at all.


	18. Chapter 18

Ten years earlier Ryan would have imagined himself a completely different way at thirty. He'd seen something like a big-shot lawyer with a trophy-wife and two point five beautiful children, senior partner in his own firm. When he'd joined the UBI and had thought about being thirty, he'd thought he'd either be a highly successful field agent, or maybe director of his own department. There had been no room for family in his thoughts when he was twenty-three. The truth of his life at thirty, really, had to be better than either of those. And much more surprising. He had graduated from Oxford nearly two years earlier, with honours, and while he was still based in Oxford, now a small, cozy house, he and Lucía lived part-time in Spain. He hadn't ever thought he'd be a novelist with five published books out of which three were on the London bestseller lists, two on the New York Times. And however much he'd always enjoyed music, he had never thought he'd find himself a ghost writer for uninspired rock stars, especially not one as highly respected in the industry as he'd ended up being. He might have once dreamed of children, but none of the dreams lived up to his real daughter. Lucía, known as Keely to everyone but Ryan himself, and Jon who still visited every few months, was five years and nearly three months old, and the most beautiful child he had ever seen, biased or not. Her hair had stayed her mother's golden blond, but it had the waves Ryan had stopped bothering to straighten out in his own, and the same texture as his. She had his eyes and soft, slightly rounded features, still tiny in her young face. And she spoke like an adult and was as smart as they came. Well, what else could he have expected as a result of the procreation of two Oxford students?

Now, really, wasn't actually the time to think about that, though. Ryan was in the 'formal' living room in his villa on Costa Bravo, which he'd bought when he realized that avoiding the press in England was more than a little hard and that most rock stars preferred having people think they wrote their own songs. He'd gotten it probably six months ago, and now that money wasn't a problem for him anymore he'd bought it the moment he'd seen it, big and pricey or no. Across from him was a young band whose record label had stated that only eight songs on an album was unacceptable, but the stressed out band members hadn't been able to come up with more without being given more time, and their manager and contacted Ryan. "So," he muttered, sipping his glass of sangría slowly. "Do you have any ideas what you want these songs to be? Themes, preferred chord arrangements, anything?"

The four young musicians looked sheepish, and their black, worn clothes looked completely out of place in the light, nicely furnished room. The lead singer finally shrugged. "It's not as though the album so far has any kind of a common thread," he stated. "But I guess we were thinking about writing something about the world today. You know, corruption, the way everything seems to be decomposing around us. We just didn't know how to do it." He shrugged again, teeth tugging at the hoop through his lip.

Oh, one of  _those_  bands. Ryan kept in the laugh and gave a slow, serious chuckle instead. "You guys are from Vegas, right?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow although he obviously already knew perfectly well. He waited for them to nod, though, before he continued. "So, how about rather than writing about how fucked up everything is, you take some of the things Vegas is famous for and make a big, ugly metaphor out of it? Or, I do, if you want." The guitarist was nodding eagerly, a grin trying to make its way to his scowling face, manoeuvring around multiple piercings and dyed-black hair. Ryan nodded back and grabbed his notebook from the table, setting his glass aside as he thought for a moment, somehow managing to refrain from biting the pencil out of habit. Finally he started jutting things down, random words at first before he thought he might know how the first verse, at least should go. "And a reference to the 'good old days'," he muttered, looking up to see how they reacted to that. At their nods he gave a small smile. "Sound of Music," he stated, writing down another few words. "But twisted."

All was silent for another ten minutes before he put a rough draft of lyrics down on the table, the first line visible being  _It's these_ ~~ _ramshackle_~~   _substandard hotels_... The band looked it over for a few minutes before the bassist nodded. "That's really good," he stated, nodding. "And not too far from what we'd write ourselves."

The lead singer smiled in agreement. "Any ideas for the vocal arrangements? And a title, maybe? Something original, not just a line from the song. And provocative."

"I'll send you a demo with vocal arrangement and suggestions for instruments," Ryan stated, leaning back against the back of his chair, picking up his glass again as he thought over the title issue. " _Build God, then We'll Talk_."

The drummer's eyes grew wide for a moment before he grinned. "Fucking awesome, dude," he slurred. Ryan blinked. He'd thought that one was too stoned to speak.

"It sounds kind of like a title off  _Alban Lady_ 's latest album," the guitarist stated.

Ryan cocked an eyebrow. "And who did you think wrote  _Alban Lady_ 's latest album?" he asked with a smirk, laughing slightly at the boys' awed gasps.

***

"Papa!"

It was Isaac's shrieks that woke Brendon and he did so almost violently, sitting up quickly and gasping. He looked around, remembering that they were currently in a plane, probably no more than an hour away from Spain. He immediately shushed his son, ignoring the stares of others around him and pointedly ignoring Spencer's snickering. Sighing, he unbuckled Isaac and brought him into his lap, wrapping his arms around the tiny waist and sighing when he kissed the darker-than-night hair. Isaac squirmed a bit, giggling, and slapped his father's arm. "Papa!" he said again, and Brendon rolled his eyes.  
  
"What's wrong?" he finally asked, once Isaac had started trying to climb onto his head to see the passengers in the seats behind them. He would never have imagined his son could have this much energy, but there he was, not the least bit tired, and mostly just cranky from the plane ride. He knew his son wouldn't answer him, he rarely did, because Isaac apparently thought that actions spoke much louder than words and had taken up miming instead of actually talking, though Brendon knew the boy could speak very well for his age. Whining a bit when he was brought back to his seat, Isaac folded his arms and pouted, kicking the seat in front of him incessantly until the person occupying the seat was forced to turn and glare. Upon seeing the child, the glare was transferred to Brendon, and Brendon huffed but put his hand on Isaac's legs and sternly told him to stop, much to Spencer's amusement.  
  
He couldn't wait until they landed.  


***  


By the time they got to the hotel, Brendon was holding onto a wailing Isaac and Spencer and Jon were cringing as they spoke to the receptionist over the sound. The young girl behind the counter was staring at the four of them with barely concealed disdain and pursed her lips when she had to find them a room. When she handed them the key cards only to have Isaac slap them out of her hands, she glared at Brendon and said, with false politeness, that they would have to make sure to keep him quiet because they couldn't disturb the other guests. Brendon, who'd turned the most violent shade of red, gifted her with his best death glare before speaking. "My  _son_  is not a disturbance," he spat, and when she simply shrugged, clearly not believing him, he stormed out, declaring that she didn't know who she was talking to and that they wouldn't be staying any longer. Once outside, though, he rubbed a hand over his face, defeated. "Fuck," he muttered, and then immediately regretted it.  
  
"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck," Isaac whispered against his shoulder, still sniffling from the crocodile tears he'd been putting on a show of crying. Brendon closed his eyes tightly and sighed, turning to Spencer and Jon who'd, fortunately, stomped out with him. "Where are we going to go?" he asked, exasperated. When he looked up, Jon was smiling.  
  


***  


  
"It's a ... friend... and he doesn't live there year-round, but he gave me a key so that I could come and visit whenever I wanted, or if ever I just needed a place to stay," Jon explained triumphantly as he unlocked the door to a villa which Brendon would have been happy to live in. They all trudged in, Brendon dragging a suitcase behind him and still carrying Isaac, who'd thankfully fallen asleep but seemed to be stirring already. He sighed and looked at Jon suspiciously. There was something off about his story, but he couldn't figure out what it was. Shrugging, he looked around the entrance and nodded, forcing himself to believe the story, and smiled a bit.  
  
"Christ, I'm tired," he announced, Spencer nodded and Jon simply chuckled a bit.

***

Lucía was in her playroom, drawing that adorable little dog she'd seen the day before and planned to ask her Daddy to buy her, tongue between her teeth and lips in concentration when she heard the unmistakable sound of the door shutting. Maybe Daddy was home already and she could tell him about how much she wanted the puppydog, and she quickly slipped down from her chair, blond pigtails flying around her head as she ran through the door, a petrol-coloured summer dress whipping around her small legs. She loved the color, but Daddy didn't, so Uncle Jon had brought it for her last time he'd visited and she'd worn it as much as she could since. She ran down the stairs, one small hand clutching the banister as she reached the entrance hall. Daddy wasn't there, but after a moment she realized that her favourite uncle  _ever_  was, and with a squeal, she ran to him. "Uncle Jon! Uncle Jon!" she shouted, raising her arms expectantly with a wide grin on her small face.

Jon grinned widely and swooped the girl into his arms, covering her face with kisses, knowing that every time he did that she shrieked with laughter and damned if that wasn't one of his favourite sounds. Ignoring the no doubt dumbfounded faces behind him (plus Isaac), he looked down at Lucía. "How's the most beautiful girl in the world?" he asked; he shamelessly spoiled her rotten and had received many-a verbal beatings from Ryan for it. He set her down gently, still ignoring Brendon and Spencer, and crouched down to eye-level with her. Reaching out to tug gently on one blond lock of hair, he grinned and waggled his eyebrows. "And where's daddy?"

The girl giggled excitedly. She hadn't expected to see Uncle Jon so soon, and now he was here and she was  _so_  happy! "In Barca," she answered. "One of the bands have a concert and he was invited." She pouted slightly. "I wanted to convince him to get a puppydog tonight, though." She couldn't resist giving her uncle a hopeful look although she had a feeling she would need to convince Daddy even if she could get Uncle Jon to buy it. "And Señora Marina is cleaning, so I can't go in the pool." It was such a hot day, though, and she had really wanted to go swim and play. She loved the pool! But Daddy wouldn't allow her to go without a grown-up. "You're  _here_ , though, so it's all great!"

Jon chuckled, kissing the top of Lucía's head before standing straight again and holding out his hand for her to take. "I don't know if you're ready to take care of a puppy, darling. It's a lot of responsibility," he warned, though his tone was playful. He absently wondered when Ryan would be back, and knew the man would completely flip a cow at seeing Brendon here. And then he'd probably have a heart attack when he saw Isaac. But they couldn't just leave, now. Lucía was bound to tell her father that he had visited, and then go into detail about the three other people who'd been with him. He sighed a bit before turning to face said other three, bringing Lucía with him.  "Here, I'd like you to meet a few people," he said, smiling uneasily. "They're very close friends of mine," he said, letting go of her hand to run it through her hair and push her forward gently. "The little boy's name is Isaac, the one holding him is Brendon, and the last one is Spencer," he said, and his two friends offered meek hellos but otherwise remained silent. Isaac, who'd woken in the commotion, stared at Lucía before turning to his father. " _Regarde la petite fille!_ " he said, in French, which just made Brendon roll his eyes. Jenn had taught him, and the boy spoke more French than English because he seemed to know that not everyone could understand it very well. Brendon, Jon and Spencer were sure that the young boy got a laugh out of the usually confused faces, but then they would consider his age and shrug it off.  
  
Lucía's eyebrows wrinkled at the odd sounds. She didn't know the language, but she did recognize some of the words from the Spanish she spoke almost fluently so as to be able to communicate with their housekeeper. She didn't know what 'fille' was, exactly, but she thought it must refer to her. "You're much smaller than me," she stated, sticking her tongue out, more than just a little affronted. Then she looked at the adults and smiled again. She was used to strangers, and used to being polite to them, and meeting new people was fun! When they weren't rude, that is. "I'm Keely," she stated, using the name most people called her by. Lucía came after Keely, after all, even though she liked Lucía better and Daddy and Jon did too. But Daddy had always said that it was their little thing, just the three of them. "Would you like me to show you mi casa? Because this is mi casa, and my house is in England."  


Brendon, who'd heard Isaac muttering something that sounded suspiciously like 'fuu-', glared at his son, because he would not have him repeating swear words to some little girl. He groaned when the boy settled on scowling and turning away, squirming in his arms. Before he could say anything like, 'hello, Keely, pleasure to meet you,' or demand to know who her father was, Jon was hastily ushering everyone into the living room. Once there, Brendon all but collapsed onto a chair and Isaac finally was able to squirm free. They were all sitting when Jon spoke again. "I think we'll just wait for your father and save the tour for later, alright, Honey? Do you know when he's supposed to be back?" he asked, smiling like they weren't in some random house (for Spencer and Brendon, anyway) and looking like he was completely at home. Brendon kept an eye on Isaac, who was currently running around the room, stopping, teetering dangerously, and then zipping off again. He sighed. He really was exhausted, but he wanted to stay up and find out just who this girl's father was, because the answer the voice in the back of his mind was yelling at him could. Not. Be. Right.

"He said when the small arm is at eleven and the big arm is at twelve," Lucía answered, pointing up at the clock on the wall. "But that Señora Marina is supposed to tuck me in before then, and we'll have breakfast together tomorrow." She smiled, climbing up onto her Daddy's chair and snuggling back. "And then we'll go swimming in the ocean, even though it's still a little bit cold and Daddy  _hates_  swimming in the ocean when it's cold." She frowned a little and decided that, really, the chair wasn't much fun when Daddy wasn't there to snuggle her, so she slipped back to the floor and went over to the couch, climbing onto her uncle's lap. Much better. "Señora has cleaned your room and everything and  _no_  one has used it. One of the rocker men said he liked it, but Daddy wouldn't let him use it because it's  _yours_. Should I get Señora to clean rooms for your friends and the tiny, little boy who's much smaller than me?"  


Brendon couldn't believe how much this child could speak when his own only deigned it worthy to slip in insulting comments or little discoveries every now and then. She was older, of course, but he suspected that she'd been talking for a long time. He smiled a bit, watching her, and when her warm eyes would land on him every now and then, he was forced to turn away, his heart thudding painfully. He drew in a shaky breath and gripped the armrest, instead turning his gaze to Isaac, who was now standing in front of a window, with his hands clasped behind his back, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet as he stared outside.

Jon, who was beginning to believe that Lucía was, indeed, responsible enough for a dog, chuckled a bit. "No, I'll talk to her later," he said, and ran a hand through her hair again. He looked down at her for a bit and was startled when Spencer suddenly spoke up.

"Can I know what the-- what is going on!?" he asked, clearly agitated. Isaac turned away from the window to look at him curiously, and his eye slid to peer at Lucía after a few moments, as though he expected her to answer. Jon grimaced a shrugged a bit.

"Can I answer that later?" he asked sheepishly, knowing that Brendon was probably glaring at him, as well. "It's already 7:30," he said, glancing quickly at the clock, and hoping that they understood he would do some explaining once the children were put to bed. He looked down at Lucía and grinned. "You know, I've been away for so long that I forgot when your bedtime is! Isn't it very soon?"  
  
"Nuh-uh," the girl answered, shaking her head so enthusiastically that her wavy pigtails flew around her face, tickling her nose and eyes. "When we're in Spain I get to stay up and watch the sunset unless I fuss or do something bad or rude," she stated. "The sunset is so pretty," she added. "But the sunrise is prettier because it's over the ocean." Then she suddenly grinned, tugging on her uncle's shirt. "Uncle Jon! The flowers you helped me plant have come up in the garden! You need to see our flowers!"

Spencer spluttered at the thought of Jon gardening and Brendon laughed so hard he had tears running down his cheeks. Seeing his father like this apparently had made Isaac very agitated because he rushed over and smacked his father's thigh. Hard. " _Papa!_ " he yelled, glaring up with eyes that were identical to Brendon's own. " _Bad, Papa!_ " he insisted, and Brendon smiled at the English. Immediately, Isaac calmed down, knowing that when someone smiled, it was a good thing. Jon, who had been offended by their reactions, glared and then scooped Lucía up into his arms as he stood.  
  
"Show me those beautiful flowers," he demanded, and was happy to hear Brendon, Spencer and Isaac following, though Isaac ran to the front to be leader of the pack. Once they reached the garden, Jon sliding the door open for everyone, he gasped over-dramatically and smiled. "Well, we're quite a team, aren't we?" he said, indicating the flowers and winking.  
  


***

Lucía was still smiling as Jon tucked her in. It had started out as a pretty boring day without her Daddy around and all, but it had turned out to be one of the best in a long time. Uncle Jon was here! She was still a little excited about that, even though she was more tired, yawning and raising a fist to rub her eyes. "Will you sing me a lullaby?" she asked, looking up with wide, hopeful eyes at her uncle. "It makes me sleep easier."

Jon chuckled and shook his head ruefully; he still remembered the first time he'd sung to her. "As long as you don't mind my horrible voice," he said playfully, and started humming to get into the hang of things. It had been too long.

***

It was five to eleven when Ryan stuck his head out of the car to press the standard code to the gate before driving through, confident that it was automatically closing behind him. The gate and tall fence had weirded him out in the beginning, but the security had come with the house and he'd learnt to appreciate it. Having a house like this one showed you had money, and if you visibly had money it was always best to have some kind of protection.

His ears and body were still thrumming from the concert, and there was a smile etched onto his face. He still couldn't get over listening to words and notes and arrangements  _he_  had written being played, and hearing them live, which he didn't often have the opportunity to, was a hundred times better. It might not be him up on the stage - thank God for that - but it was words he had written that the huge audience would scream back at the performers, and notes he had come up with that they all danced to. It was a singularly amazing experience.

After another few moments he pulled up in the garage and got out of the car, keys jingling in his hand as he made his way to the front door, blazer pulled tight around his slim form in the cool evening breeze. He'd go in, grab a bite to eat and bring that and a glass of wine up to the large balcony and watch the stars reflecting off the ocean in the creek under them, maybe write a few words of his newest book, and then go to sleep early enough to wake up around the time Lucía did so they could carry out their plans for the day. He loved spending time with his little girl, and could hardly wait for a whole day with her. Most of the time he was busier in Spain than in England, which meant that during their lengthier stays he had to make an effort to find time, but he always did and always enjoyed it.

He turned the key in the lock and walked in, dropping his keys on the small table that was in the entrance hall for that very purpose before kicking off his shoes without even really looking around. Then he opened the first door on the right, entering the kitchen. 

When Jon heard what was, unmistakably, Ryan coming home for the night, he cringed. "Alright," he said hurriedly, looking up at the two men who were currently staring him down, and they looked quite menacing, despite the fact that Brendon currently had Isaac, who was refusing to sleep, curled up in his lap, thumb in his mouth despite Brendon's numerous protests. "You guys have to promise not to freak out," he said, and when they both reluctantly nodded, he got up and bounded to the kitchen. Stopping in the doorway, he leaned against it and smiled. "Hey," he said quietly, hoping not to completely scare Ryan.

Ryan jumped, but recognized the voice and turned around with a smile. "Hey there," he answered with a grin. "We missed you. Didn't say you were coming, though, or I would've stayed home." He walked over and gave the other man a quick hug. "How've you been? Since I talked to you four days ago on the phone, anyway?"

Jon chuckled and hugged Ryan back, squeezing him tightly. When he pulled back, he decided to completely ignore Ryan's questions. "Right, so, you have to promise not to freak out, but I kind of did something bad," he said, making a face. He scratched his head and shrugged a bit. "I just kind of... didn't think it through and... well, it blew up in my face," he muttered, and then smiled. "By the way, Lucía wants a dog," he said, grasping at straws as he tried to figure out ways to make the situation easier to handle. He found nothing.  


"I know she does," Ryan answered. "She keeps looking at them longingly when we see one. Was thinking of saving it as a reward next time she does something really exceptional. Or Christmas, whichever comes first." Then his brow wrinkled slightly as he examined the quick words his friend had expelled before the dog comment. "I don't freak out, Jon," he stated with a laugh. "I'm thirty, age has mellowed me out, remember?" He shook his head in amusement, brown waves that had yet to see a bit of grey falling into his eyes. "What did you do, though?"

Jon hesitated for a moment, quite sure that Ryan  _would_  freak out, or at the very least be caught off balance. He chewed on his lip before motioning for Ryan to follow him as he lead the way to the living room, where Brendon and Spencer were immersed in conversation and didn't hear them arrive. Isaac, though, was standing and looking at them when they came in, the spitting image of his father, and he smiled toothily at both of them, but said nothing. Jon tilted his head back and closed his eyes, resisting the urge to groan, and trying not to imagine what could possibly happen next.  
  
Ryan momentarily faltered in his steps, eyes widening as he took in the occupants of his living room. Jon had apparently chosen the formal one, rather than the family room where pictures of him with Lucía and Lucía alone and some of Jon and Jaken were all over the walls. He supposed he could kind of understand that decision. He gulped slightly, taking in the differences to be found in his first ever boyfriend and the old friend he'd lost touch with years ago. They looked much the same, older, more mature, but not really that changed. Then there was the kid, and Ryan wasn't really surprised. He knew Brendon's father had always carried a lot of weight with the boy turned man, and that the order to get married and have an heir would probably be even more compelling without the king there. He wasn't as emotionally gripped as he might have thought he'd be, though. More wistful than sad or angry, but then he supposed that while the emotions still came back every once on a blue moon, he'd gotten over it more and more. Jaken, even though they weren't together anymore, had helped a lot. And time and distance had done its job. As had the glaring fact that if he and Brendon hadn't split, the most important person in Ryan's life would never have been born. It was awkward as hell, though. "Hey, it's been a while," he finally said after a long, pregnant silence. "Welcome, though." Since they were here, he concluded, they might as well stay for however long they needed. "Uhm, I guess I'll help you find rooms. You'll have to prepare them yourselves, though. Señorita Sanchez has left for the night."  


Brendon's eyes snapped up the moment he heard Ryan's voice, and he stared at him with a growing expression of horror and shock. Before he could answer, though, to anything he had said, his son decided to introduce himself and Brendon just wanted to be swallowed up into the ground. " _Con!_ " Isaac crowed, using the French word for idiot, and then proceeded to make faces at Ryan. "Oh, God," Brendon muttered, completely embarrassed. Were children supposed to do that? "Isaac Spencer! I don't want to hear that word come out of your mouth ever again," he finally said, sternly, and the boy glared defiantly at him before climbing into Spencer's lap and wrapping his arms around his Godfather's neck. He mouthed Spencer's cheek for a few seconds, getting it sufficiently slobbery and wet, before pulling back and grinning. Brendon groaned. Why did he get the weird kid?  
  
"Hi, Ryan," it was Spencer who finally said it, smiling even though Isaac had just smeared saliva over half of his face. "I apologize if we seem a little surprised to see you, but  _someone_ ," he glared pointedly at Jon, "didn't tell us who's house this was," he explained. He shrugged a bit and stood, hefting Isaac into his arms. He walked closer to Ryan and grinned. "Keely's beautiful," he finally said in a hushed voice. "And intelligent and sweet--" he broke off when Isaac started whining. "And she appeared to be very proud that this one was quite a bit smaller than she was," he chuckled. "And happy..." he trailed off and looked back at Brendon, who has looking out the window and apparently refusing to acknowledge anyone.  
  
Ryan was immediately caught in fatherly pride, which tended to make him lose focus on everything except the person complimenting his daughter. "That would be her, yes. And she's around adults too much, honestly, and tends to be very obnoxious about it when she meets someone younger than herself." He smiled brightly. "And yeah, she is a very happy child. At least it seems I'm finally starting to do things right in my life, huh?" His tone was wry, but the smile was still there and he gave a slight wink at the end of it. "I just had to grow up first, which seemed to take me a while longer than it does for most people." He looked down at the sleepy boy in Spencer's arm. "Foot in the mouth disease?" he asked with a slight laugh. "Lucía had it too, a few years back. Was brutally honest and loud about every imperfection in every person she met." He glanced back at Jon. "Remember when she told that lady in the supermarket that her mole was ugly and looked a bit like that doggie poo Uncle Jon stepped in?"  


Jon and Spencer chuckled, Jon nodding that he remembered. Brendon suddenly stood and came up to them, taking Isaac from Spencer's arms and looking over at Ryan. "Since I met your daughter properly... Ryan, this is Isaac," he said, very quietly, and at his name, Isaac looked up, first at his father, and then at Ryan. He patted Ryan's cheek, which Brendon took as a good sign, and then laid his head on his father's shoulder and closed his eyes. Brendon was silent for a few moments before smiling ruefully. "Well, I think he likes you," he announced, though his voice was as quiet as before. He smiled sadly and averted his eyes. He couldn't believe Jon had been talking to Ryan all this time, that he'd been spending his time with him and his daughter and that he hadn't told anyone. He wasn't angry, but he knew that he had never gotten over Ryan like Ryan had apparently gotten over him, and it hurt to be confronted with it. 

Patting the small boy's head, Ryan felt his smile beginning to falter as he started to pick up on the fact that Brendon's mood wasn't the best. They should probably talk things through at some point, get it out of the way and clear the air, but tonight they were all a bit tired, which wasn't the best for something like that. "Hey, little guy," he greeted the boy instead, although he appeared half-asleep. "Well, we should probably get you some rooms. Jon, you know where yours is. Brendon, would you like to have Isaac with you, or a room each?"

Brendon shook his head, looking for all the world that he was horrified at the thought of leaving his son alone. "Together," he said definitely, hugging the little boy closer. Spencer sighed beside him, rubbing his back a bit, and then smiled at Ryan.

"Thanks for letting us stay," he said. "Some receptionist at the hotel we were staying at... well, let's just say that the hotel isn't made for people who have kids." He cringed at Brendon's angry glare, could tell that his best friend was clenching his jaw, and continued to rub his back soothingly. "Brendon's got dinners all week, and a couple conferences," he grimaced and so did Brendon. "So, we're really thankful," he finished.

"Welcome," Ryan answered immediately. "It's really no problem. The villa is large and we have people over on business quite a bit, honestly. It's why I bought it in the first place." He shrugged and started to climb the stairs. "I'll give you the grand tour tomorrow; everyone seems a bit too tired for it right now." They reached the second floor hallway, and Ryan nodded to the left. "That's Lucía and me," he stated, indicating the four doors. "One of the other rooms," he nodded to the left. "Is Jon's, but you're free to pick and choose between the rest. Most of the rooms have en-suites and there are sheets and blankets in the cabinets. Don't just use sheets, it gets cold at night." He paused slightly, trying to remember what other information he should give out. "Lucía and I are going to have breakfast at nine, and you can feel free to join, but otherwise Señorita Sanchez will cook up something whenever you need it. I think that's pretty much it unless there's something anyone needs to know."

Brendon shifted Isaac in his arms, who'd fallen asleep somewhere on the stairs. "This one will probably wake me long before I feel human, so we'll be joining you," he assured. "And he's probably going to be cranky because of jet lag, so I apologize in advance. Jenn said she would take him so that I wouldn't have to bring him everywhere, but I think letting my son see Spain is worth his crankiness and dragging these two along," he said with a slight chuckle, before he cut himself off. He'd been saying it more to himself, but part of him felt like he needed to justify bringing his son along when he'd be working a lot of the time they were here.  
  
"It's all right," Ryan reassured with a small smile. "I understand what it's like to be a working dad." Then he looked around all of them. "Well, good night, sleep well. I'm off now." He gave a small wave and turned on his heel, walking past the door that led to his study before entering his room. Well, the balcony was out then, since he didn't want to disturb everyone else by walking up and down the halls. He walked to the fridge he'd installed in his own room to help cure bouts of insomnia and pulled out a pre-made sandwich, courtesy of their housekeeper, followed by a glass of wine, also kept in his room so he wouldn't disturb Lucía when he was up late. That done, he walked to the stairs on the side of the large master bedroom and climbed up, pushing the door open and walking out onto the flat roof where his table and chair and the magnificent view were waiting for him. There probably wouldn't be any writing tonight, but he still intended to enjoy some alone time before going to bed.

***  


  
Isaac woke Brendon at exactly 8:15 the next morning by jumping up and down on his father's stomach and giggling rather loudly. Groaning, Brendon pulled Isaac off of him and turned onto his side, mercilessly tickling his son until he was laughing so hard he was panting. Pulling away, Brendon grinned at him before taking his hand and slipping out of bed, taking him to the washroom. Apparently their suitcases had been put in the proper room, and Brendon occupied himself with brushing his own teeth and then helping Isaac brush his. He brushed both their hair, which was so identical it was almost scary, and then dressed Isaac in one of his cleaner outfits, something red because that's what he looked good in. Half-heartedly pulling on his own jeans and t-shirt, Brendon scooped Isaac into his arms before heading out of the room and down the stairs, hoping he was on time for breakfast. It was rude, after all, to be late for such a thing, especially after having been invited.  
  


*** 

Ryan was up and showered by 8:30, and dressed simply in a pair of black trunks, a green shirt and a pair of flip-flops as a preparation for the swimming he'd promised Lucía. He grabbed his sunglasses before leaving the room, stuffing them in his pocket before leaving the room to make his way to Lucía room where she was already running around in a bathing suit. Covering her in sunblock and getting her to put a sun dress on over the bathing suit was simple, and they ended up having ten minutes to snuggle and talk before having to go down, and those small, random moments were really Ryan's favorites so he wasn't complaining in any way.

Finally he got up and took his daughter's hand, walking down the hall and stairs with her and out through the door to the terrace where the table was already set and waiting. There was a jug of freshly pressed orange juice, along with milk and coffee and a large plate decked with still-steaming churros as well as small cups with hot, thick chocolate to dip them in and another plate with pinchos de tortilla as well as sandwich mixtos and mixto con huevos cut in halves, forming a traditional Spanish breakfast, even if it were a bit heavier and with more foods to choose from than most Spaniards preferred, but the housekeeper had soon learnt that Ryan and Lucía were used to more than just two tiny fried pastries and a glass of juice to start the day on.

Lucía climbed into her seat and Ryan sat down next to her, enjoying the view of the creek, the small fisher boats in the horizon and the sun shining down on it all. "Think anyone else will be up?" he asked as he heard movement in the living room. The girl nodded with a grin and looked at the door expectantly. 

Isaac barreled in first, having evaded his father the minute they stepped off the stairs. He grinned widely, waddling over to Lucía, tapping her ankle with his left hand, and then walking over to Ryan to tap his thigh. Brendon was familiar with the greeting, and so were Jon, Spencer and Jenn. It confused strangers, but Isaac only touched people he liked, so Brendon took it as a good sign. He smiled, though it didn't reach his eyes, and sat down across from Ryan, letting Isaac crawl into his lap. He immediately pointed to the chocolate, a big grin on his face. "Chocolat, Papa!" he said, his voice whiny, and Brendon chuckled a bit.  
  
"Jenn let's you eat too much chocolate as it is," he said by way of response, and knew Isaac had understood him by the way he slumped back and jut out his bottom lip. "Anything to recommend for a little boy who gets way too excitable when he eats a lot of sugar?" Brendon asked, looking up at Ryan and then letting his gaze fall on his daughter. It was scary how alike their eyes were, which, Brendon supposed, was probably what people thought when they saw him with Isaac.  
  
Ryan pointed to the plate with finger foods, smiling slightly. "Pinchos de tortilla," he explained. "Basically bits of potato omelet. Filling, nutritious and doesn't really have anymore sugar than any potatoes do." He sent Lucía a stern glance as he spoke, and with a pout she only took one churro and put it on her plate, followed by three of the small tortilla pieces and a sandwich mixto. Ryan laughed slightly, shaking his head slowly. "If you can eat all that and not feel too full to swim you can have another churro," he promised, reaching out to ruffle her loose, blond hair which earned him a whine and a grimace. He picked up the jar of juice and poured his daughter a glass, before pouring some for himself and starting to stack his plate.

Brendon nodded, scooping up some of those-- potato omelet things onto his own plate, where Isaac just picked at them, sometimes eating, sometimes playing with the food until Brendon saw and told him to stop. He took a bit of everything for himself, tasting it to decide if he liked it and then eating hungrily. He let Isaac have a bit of chocolate, against his better judgment, and was surprised that his son didn't squirm or try to get away during the meal. At one point, he did point his finger at Lucía and narrow his eyes. Brendon hastily supplied her name, so that the poor girl wouldn't get offended by the pointing and glaring, and Isaac looked at her calmly for a few minutes before: "Lucía," he said it slowly, his French really coming out in that one, and Brendon smiled, kissing the top of his head. "You guys are going swimming?" he finally asked, looking up at Ryan briefly.  
  
"We are," Ryan confirmed with a small smile, reaching into his pocket and taking out the shades, taking them on against the glare of the sun. He looked at Lucía and noticed that she was looking a little uncomfortable, and reached over to stroke a quick finger across his cheek. "And, well, sorry," he muttered, feeling uncomfortable at correcting a boy who was hardly more than a toddler. "She doesn't like strangers calling her Lucía. It's really just Jon and I who do. Her first name's Keely." He looked over at his daughter who sent him a bright, grateful smile, and smiled back automatically. "You can come down with us, if you want. The water's still pretty cold, but it's lovely down there."

"Oh, um... sorry-- I think Jon might've..." Brendon trailed off uncertainly. Clearing his throat, he looked back down at his plate and nudged his son, telling him to call her Keely in hushed tones, a smile playing on his lips to show that it was okay, but Isaac simply ignored him and carried on eating. Brendon shrugged, because this was a normal reaction, and sat back a bit to watch him eat. His son had never been fussy about food, but he'd always picked at it, eating only very small amounts at a time, and Brendon found it fascinating how they could be so different. He smiled a bit and ran a hand through Isaac's hair, which was really getting too long. "Do you want to go swimming, Isaac?" he asked after a few moments, and he could see his son trying to figure out what that meant. "Matante," he finally said, with an air of finality, and Brendon chuckled. "That's code for yes," he said to Ryan, but didn't look up. "He's just saying that he wants to wear the shorts his-- Jenn got him, right, Isaac?" But he didn't receive a response here, either.

Ryan laughed slightly, dipping a churro in the chocolate sauce and taking a bite, relishing the salty-sweet taste. "Go get the shorts when we're done eating, then," he suggested. "We'll wait here and then we'll go to the beach. Maybe we should ask Jon and Spencer if they want to come too." He glanced at Lucía, raising an eyebrow. "How would you like to go swimming with Uncle Jon?" Her grin widened and she nodded nearly violently, causing Ryan to laugh and lean over to give her a one-armed half-hug, which she returned enthusiastically. After moments of silence, though, he turned back to look across the table. "What have you been up to all these years then?"

"I started a charity to help families torn apart by war... Spencer helps children who've lost their families. I'm actually here to have dinner with some of our diplomat, get them involved, and I have to sit through some peace conferences--" he cut himself off, making a face. "Which is probably very different from the last conference I went to, but I'd still rather not go," he admitted, and then shrugged a bit. "And then I had Isaac. His mother and I had dinner one night and I kind of knew," he smiled a bit. He'd never thought he would think of his son's mother in such a good light. Everyone knew they weren't together, of course, and that she'd been inseminated, but sometimes he just couldn't help telling people how great she was. He figured, from Ryan's lack of reaction last night, that the man knew all about what he'd done just to have Isaac, from his arguments with Spencer, to finding Jenn, to finally succeeding, to living together, right down to the birth. He felt a bit hurt that Jon had never told  _him_  about Ryan's daughter, but assumed that Ryan had made him promise not to.  
  
Nodding slowly, Ryan looked down on Brendon's hand and was more than a little bit surprised to realize that there was no ring adorning any fingers. Then he looked up at the other man's face. "I'm guessing you divorced her, then," he stated. "No ring and all," he added as an explanation. "I never really follow the news much unless it has to do with literary or music worlds, so I wouldn't actually know." He shrugged with a small smile. "Never actually thought you'd marry a woman, though, unless someone was holding a gun to your head."  


Brendon frowned at Ryan, shaking his head slowly. "Uhh... no, I didn't marry her," he said, a little disgusted at the thought and affronted that Ryan would think that. Hadn't Jon told him  _anything_? "No, I met up with um... women that I thought would be good candidates for insemination," he said, then chuckled at the absurdity of it, still frowning a bit. "I'm gay," he confirmed, laughing a bit more. "In case you missed that part...?" And now he really felt like was going to burst out laughing, but restrained himself. "I haven't really dated," he finally stated. "At all," he shrugged. He hadn't wanted to date, and had never found it appealing, even when he'd been younger. And then there was the charity and Isaac and-- he just never had time, really.

Ryan gave an embarrassed laugh, blushing slightly. "Uhm, okay. That was obviously a really bad guess," he stated, taking a deep gulp of orange juice as he gave another shrug. "I just don't usually look at a kid and think 'hey! Artificial insemination', so..." He grimaced slightly, and felt a lot younger than he was for a moment before he managed to overcome his embarrassment and look up again. "You're still young, though," he added with a small smile. "All the time in the world to find the right guy. Not that I'm exactly convinced that there is such a thing as the very right person for everyone, but all we can do is hope we luck out, I guess." Seven years, though... Ryan knew it might sound a little slutty, but maybe that was what the years had made him; he just really couldn't imagine going without it for seven years. He didn't really think it would be exactly tactful to tell Brendon that, though, so he kept quiet. There was a tug on his sleeve and he turned to look at his daughter who had another churro in her mouth, plate empty and a proud look on her face. "Finish chewing," he instructed with an amused look on his face. "Then you can go wake up your uncle." 

Brendon was sure he felt his heart shatter when Ryan said something about 'the right guy'. He quickly looked away, pretending to adjust Isaac on his lap, and made sure he had himself under control when he looked up again. "And I think Isaac would like to wake Spencer," he said, and he knew his voice was strained. He smiled down at his son, fighting down the urge to scream and yell and stomp around because he wasn't getting his way. How did Ryan not know that, even after all this time, Brendon knew that he was who he wanted? More importantly, how could Brendon have only admitted it to himself  _after_  he'd lost Ryan? Isaac slid off his lap before turning to stare at Keely, and Brendon quickly told her that Isaac was wondering if she was going to come upstairs. He couldn't read his son's mind, but he had learned to read his facial expressions very well, which was good because he rarely said anything of consequence.  
  
Lucía slipped off her chair and walked to the smaller child, gripping his hand gently and leading him back into the house and Ryan gave a soft laugh at the sight. "Absolutely adorable," he stated. It was really a shame he'd only ever had one kid. Lucía would've been a magnificent big sister if she'd had the chance. Then he turned back, giving Brendon his full attention. He thought he saw a fleeting glimmer of something on the former prince's face, but it might just have been a trick of the morning sun. "It must've been lonely, though," he stated, continuing the thread of conversation that had come before the children leaving. He picked up a piece of tortilla, chewing slowly and washing it down with orange juice. Then he smiled wryly. "Maybe you ended up being the one remaining idealistic about love and sex and relationships, though," he stated with another shrug. "I guess I can't fault you. It's a beautiful thought. Maybe I've just gotten too cynical to find it very realistic."  


Brendon took a deep breath, closing his eyes briefly. "No one would have made it less lonely," he finally said, and he made sure to say 'no one' and not 'no one else'. "I had Jon and Spencer-- well, Jon was gone a lot of the time, but I definitely had Spencer, and I'm surprisingly close to Jenn." He sighed again and shrugged. It hurt to hear Ryan say things like that. It was as though Ryan were purposely stabbing him in the heart, over and over and over, and then twisting the knife just for fun. He had so much that he wanted to say, but he couldn't find it in him. No relationship could have ever compared to the one he'd had with Ryan. He knew that, and it was probably just going to hurt him worse in the long run, but if he couldn't have Ryan, he wasn't interested in anyone else.

"Yeah, I get what you mean," Ryan answered with a soft sigh. "It's a little less lonely for a while, but a lot of times it's just worse when it's over." He smiled in what he hoped was a supportive way, but really he was kind of preoccupied with his own thoughts. "I don't really have any regrets, though," he finally stated. "I had to go through what I went through to have Lucía, but then she came along and made things worth it. She made things a lot better." He gave a wistful smile. "Really, I know it sounds disturbed, but I sometimes think that the real meaning of 'the love of your life' is having a child. You won't ever love anyone as truly and unconditionally, and if you do things right, it lasts, and a lot of the time, your child is the only person you'll be able to spend a lifetime loving. It's a fight, sometimes, but I like to think I've done right by her, even though I personally can't imagine growing up without my mother." He snorted slightly. "With  _her_  mother, though, I'm very tempted to say that it's for the best."  


Brendon agreed with Ryan, about children being the love of their lives, and he nodded absently while he listened. But he knew that Ryan was the big love of his life. And he didn't believe that you could only have one, but he did think that Ryan was meant to be his. Before he could say anything, though he couldn't think of much to say, he heard the pitter-patter of tiny feet rushing to join them, followed by the heavier sound of what he assumed to be Spencer and Jon. Sure enough, Isaac came barrelling towards him, Ryan's daughter not far behind him, and Spencer and Jon following, yawning and rubbing their eyes sleepily. They were both dressed for swimming, though, and Brendon was happy to see that Spencer had helped Isaac find his favourite swim shorts. He smiled and picked up his son. "Ready to swim?" he asked, receiving a loud ' _oui, papa!_ ' in return.

Lucía paused to wait for Jon to catch up and caught his hand before dragging the grown man along until she could take Ryan's hand as well, and Ryan rolled his eyes although he couldn't hold back a smile as he looked at his old friend. "Don't you get a backache from being wrapped around her little finger so tightly?" he asked with a laugh even though he knew it was a little hypocritical and that he might as well be speaking about himself. He shook his head slightly and grabbed his and Lucía towels from off the back on one of the chairs and walked off the terrace and into the garden where they hit a small path, following it until they reached the long stairs leading down to the private stretch of beach. There was absent-minded chatter and small conversations and the sounds of excited children as they descended the stairs, but then they were finally there, feet hitting hot sand, and Ryan soon dropped the towels on the ground, kicking off his flip-flops and kneeling to help Lucía out of her dress. "Don't get in the water until Jon or I am there with you," he instructed sternly, ignoring her pout as he stood back up and pulled the t-shirt over his head, shuddering slightly in the breeze. Well, best get this over with, he decided, and without further warning scooped his daughter up and threw her over his shoulder, laughing at her squeals as he bolted towards the water, ignoring how cold it felt against his feet, then his legs. He was nearly to his waist when he let himself drop under, letting go of the little girl for a moment before resurfacing, shaking water out of his hair and gasping against the cool temperature, immediately catching the still giggling and squealing girl around the waist.

Brendon sat in the sand near the towels, pulling his knees up to his chest as he watched Jon run into the water after Ryan and Keely, yelling that this was the best way to wake up. Spencer and Isaac made they way in a bit slower, Isaac clutching onto Spencer's fingers for dear life. The moment his toes his the water, he shook his head and backed up and would only go in when Spencer picked him up and slowly walked further until the water was up to Isaac's waist. Isaac shivered, wrapping his small arms around Spencer's neck, and watched his father, who in turn watched him. After a few minutes, the little boy turned back to watch Jon, Ryan and Keely, though he wouldn't let Spencer let go of him. " _F-f-froid_ ," he stuttered, pointing to the water and shaking his head. Spencer bit his lip and started to walk out, but stopped when Isaac let loose a blood-curdling shriek. Apparently he wanted to stay, despite the cold.  
  
Ryan turned around slightly, confident that Jon was watching Lucía, to find out what the shriek was all about, and laughed as he caught sight of the flailing boy. "Yeah," he answered when they were back in easy earshot. "It's extremely cold, and the only reason we're all in is because we can't be outdone by a  _girl_." He widened his eyes exaggeratedly, smiling slightly. "She'll get tired of it soon, though," he confided. "And then you can pick seashells with her along the beach. How's that sound?" He gave another, hopefully reassuring, smile, grateful for his experience with children. "For now... can you swim, little guy?"

Isaac looked at Ryan curiously, as though still not sure whether he could be trusted, and then stretched out his arms and leaned forward. "No, no, no, no," he said, causing Spencer to chuckle and take a step closer to Ryan to make sure the boy didn't lean too far and tumble into the water. "Jenn made sure he got those toddler swimming lessons," Spencer assured Ryan. "I've never been under the impression that he's very fond of water, though," he added. Isaac obviously wanted to get into Ryan's arms and he started squirming and whining, flapping his hands. "Fuck," he said, and Spencer threw back his head and laughed, too occupied with finding everything this little boy did hilarious to scold him for saying something his father had explicitly told him not to repeat.  


Feeling another laugh bubbling up in his throat, Ryan gently gripped the small boy around the waist and pulled him onto his own hip. "Well," he said with a grin. "If you don't like swimming, I can do it for both of us. How would you like that?" When there was no screaming and no negatives, Ryan gently hoisted Isaac onto his back. "Hold on tight to my neck and shoulders, okay?" he asked and waited for the boy to do just that before he slowly let go of him. Ryan looked over at Spencer. "Keep an eye on him and grab him if he lets go," he instructed, a little anxiously. He'd done this with Lucía countless times, but Lucía was a few years older and maybe better at hanging on, and he wanted to be sure Isaac was safe too, even if he wasn't as comfortable in the water. Then, making sure he could still feel tiny arms clinging around his neck, he slowly kicked off and started a steady breast swim along the coastline, making sure not to get any farther out than he'd been when he'd started, and hoping that it was giggles and squeals he could hear over the waves, not the sound of a little boy crying in fear.

Isaac clung to Ryan's neck and kicked his feet, as though wanting to help Ryan swim. Once they'd been at it for a short while, though, his arms started to slip a bit because of the water, and when you were such a little boy, it was hard to keep your grip. Just as he was sliding off, Spencer was there, catching him and then bringing him in close to his chest again. "Have fun?" he asked, and Isaac smacked his hands into the water, sending it splashing. " _C'est quoi son nom?_ " Isaac asked, pointing at Ryan, and Spencer was glad that Brendon had given him a crash course in French a few years back since he'd not remembered much from high school, and Jenn, who basically just spoke to him in French so that it would be easier when speaking to Isaac. "Ryan," Spencer answered, but Isaac kept pointing, a frown now on his face.  


"I'm Ryan," Ryan confirmed with a small smile, trying to figure out what the small boy was on about. He didn't know a lot of French, but his high school understanding was still mostly in place - enough for him to get the basics in any case. He was interrupted a moment later, though, when Lucía bounded through the water and grabbed his arm.

"Me, Daddy!" she squealed. "Me! Me! Me!" And Ryan laughed and picked her up, letting her find her grip as she had done so often before. And then he dived, breaking surface to find his daughter spluttering and laughing. He turned half-way and pressed a small peck to her cheek before setting off at a steady swim once more. So maybe it wouldn't be just the two of them that day after all, but he was sure it would be fine anyway. 

Isaac giggled and clapped his hands as he watched Ryan and Keely, kicking his feet so that the water splashed around him. When he started shivering again, though, Spencer decided to bring him back up to the beach. Brendon would flip a cow if Isaac ever got sick. He trudged out of the water, holding Isaac close to him until he started squirming too much and then put him on the ground and Isaac was running to meet his father. He wrapped his arms around a smiling Brendon's neck and made himself comfortable in his lap. And then he went back to watching those in the water, sometimes pointing to Ryan so that his father would watch and see what they were doing.  
  
Jon, who'd been watching his Goddaughter, was laughing and swimming in circles around both her and her father. He would splash them every now and then, just to keep them on their toes. He'd missed being with them far too much, but he knew that staying with Spencer and Brendon had been the right decision. He'd gotten closer to Spencer, though he knew he would always be Brendon's best friend, and was anxious to see where things were going between them. Sometimes he caught Spencer looking at him, just studying him, and then he would look away quickly when caught, and those moments made Jon happier than he'd ever been; they were pretty much tied in with every moment he'd spent with Lucía.  
  
After another while of playing and splashing with Lucía, Ryan declared that he was getting cold. "You'll look after her until she tires of it?" Ryan asked Jon, not really waiting for confirmation before starting to wade out of the water. He knew he didn't even really need to ask. He was shivering slightly and hurried to the towels, picking up his own and wrapping it around his shoulders before dropping down on the sand. "I don't get it," he stated. "Lucía is about as skinny as I am, but she never seems to get cold." Over the years he'd filled out a bit around the shoulders, frame becoming a little more solid and less of the gangly, lithe, all-awkward-arms-and-legs form he'd had when he was younger, but he was still a little too thin, no matter how much he ate. He wasn't about to complain, though. At least he wasn't getting fat. "So," he started, looking at Brendon and Spencer. "Are you going into Barca tonight, or did you come early to have a bit of a vacation, or what?"  


"Came in a bit early so that this little guy wouldn't completely freak out if I just suddenly left the moment we got here..." Brendon answered, kissing the top of Isaac's head. He didn't know if Isaac really would have cared either way, but he didn't want to take any chances. "Plus Jenn wanted us to take some pictures for her, or something, though God knows she could have just come with us, since I did invite her..." he trailed off and made a face, realizing how potentially awkward that could have been, now. Jenn would have made friends with Ryan; she made friends with everyone. And then she would have had embarrassing stories and had everyone laughing. Essentially she would have had everyone eating out of the palm of her hand, it was just the way she was and it was one of the reasons Brendon loved her. "Oh, um, did you guys have plans for tonight?" he frowned and sighed. "We're completely imposing on you," he muttered.

"Don't worry about it," Ryan said with a shrug. "Lucía loves having you around, and I don't mind company myself. I was just asking because I could've given you a ride in. I'm picking up a friend in the airport." He laughed slightly. "God knows Lucía will be excited enough to bounce off walls to have both of her favorite uncles around even though..." He grimaced slightly. "Okay, it might become a little awkward, just so you're forewarned. Jon's never liked Jaken at all, so there's usually a lot of ignoring going on when they're in the same place at the same time."

Spencer frowned a bit. "Jon doesn't like Keely's other uncle?" he asked, somewhat confused. Sure, Jon was known for not liking people, but it usually wasn't just random. At least, not as much as it had been in school. Spencer looked over at Jon, who was still in the water with Keely, splashing around and laughing loudly. He'd never seen his friend have more fun than he was having right now. "I mean... he doesn't even make an effort for her?" he asked, and he was only getting more confused. He knew Jon well enough to know that, for people he loved, he would do anything, including pretend to like someone.

Ryan grimaced slightly, but didn't say out loud that it might have had something to do with Jon, not forewarned at all, walking in on a certain activity several years ago and never getting over it. They'd had the biggest row of their friendship, shouting and screaming about how some things shouldn't happen in a small apartment that also housed a toddler and Ryan hotly answering that he was a grown man, knew what he was doing and damn well didn't need a big brother who was four years younger than himself. In the end Jon had agreed to tolerate Jaken's presence, so long as he didn't have to talk to the other man or pretend to like him, but also agreed not to say a bad word about him in front of Lucía, which was as much as Ryan could hope for. Jon never seemed to have liked anyone Ryan had a relationship with, and even though Ryan and Jaken were mostly just friends nowadays, it seemed to have continued. Maybe that had something to do with Jon being perceptive enough to know that they still fucked. "He's just overprotective," he finally said as a way of explanation, even though he knew perfectly well that it wasn't really an explanation at all.  


"Well, I'm sure it will be perfectly fine," Brendon spoke up. "It's your house and we're your guests; the very least we could do is respect other guests," he said, and was promptly slapped in the face by Isaac, who'd apparently been trying to catch his attention. Looking down, Brendon raised his eyebrows expectantly. When his son didn't say or do anything else, Brendon frowned. "I think you know better than to hit, Isaac," he said sternly. "You'll get time out if you don't behave, and there are no toys in your room here like there are at home," he warned, and Isaac pouted a bit before pushing himself away from Brendon and climbing into Ryan's lap, taking Spencer's hand on his way by. Brendon sighed; well, his son really knew how to make him feel like shit, that was for sure. But he'd been told that some children just did that, and then they grew out of it until they reached their teenage years. He didn't even want to think about Isaac as a teenager, though.

Ryan smiled, still feeling a little awkward, and patted the small boy's head. "Yeah," he agreed to Brendon's first comment. "It'll all work out." Then he looked up to see Lucía and Jon approaching, Lucía babbling about seashells and Ryan lifted Isaac to his feet. "Want to go find some pretty seashells?"


	19. Chapter 19

"I can't believe that fucking asshole is coming," Jon hissed, looking around only afterwards to make sure the kids were out of earshot. They were sitting in the garden, Spencer and Brendon plus Jon and the two kids. Ryan had left a little while ago to pick up Jaken and Jon was still sore about it. He took an almost violent sip from his glass of sangria, which he'd become accustomed to over the years, and then slammed it back down. "And of course they're completely wrong for each other," he said vehemently, ignoring Brendon's surprised, choked, sound. "But of course Ryan doesn't see that, and he keeps saying that they're not together, but I have seen things!" He continued ranting, Brendon hanging on his every word and Spencer rolling his eyes and ignoring him. Just as Jon said something particularly nasty, Isaac bounded over and was grinning in a way that scared Brendon.  
  
"Prick!" he announced, and Brendon groaned, covering his face with his hands before looking up and glaring at Jon, who looked sheepish and muttered an apology. The night did not look like it would go well, at all. He looked around for Ryan's daughter, because he was not going to let her get hurt on his watch, and was pleased to see that she was playing calmly. He smiled wistfully, then frowned. Ryan got the normal child, and he got the child who liked repeating curses and never spoke. Just fantastic.  
  


***

Ryan pulled into the garage, laughing and eagerly responding to yet another one of Jaken's comments before opening his door and slipping out. "Oh, and..." He gave another one of those awkward grimaces, wrinkling his nose. "Remember Jon?" he asked. "Well, he's here. With my ex." 

Jaken frowned for a moment before suddenly raising an eyebrow. " _The_  ex?" he asked with a laugh. "Should be fun to finally see him." Then he sobered slightly. "And don't worry. I'll be on my best behaviour and stay out of Walker's way as best I can." He reached into the backseat and pulled out his suitcase. "I'm guessing it'd be a bit inappropriate for me to use your room then."

Another grimace and Ryan nodded. "Yeah, probably," he answered, giving a small laugh. "You could always sneak in after every one's asleep," he stated with a laugh and a wink. "At least I got the one soundproof room in the house." Then he shook his head slightly. "Nah, we should probably behave," he stated.

Jaken nodded with a small smile. "Yeah, guess you're right about that, mate. There'll be enough tension as it is. And I'm personally not too much of an addict to keep my trousers on."

Ryan refrained from stating that he could very easily be, laughed and rolled his eyes instead. "Come on, meet the entourage," he invited and led the way around the house, into the garden. "And you're serious about getting an exhibit? Opening show and everything?"

"Absolutely," the younger man answered, running a hand through his tousled, blond hair. "And I cannot for the life of me wait. I feel like a kid before Christmas." Ryan rolled his eyes and responded with an expression that clearly stated that the taller man  _still_  behaved like a kid when Christmas was around the corner. Finally the others were in view, and Jaken grinned upon spotting Lucía. "Where's the prettiest little lass in the whole world?" he shouted, only to be barrelled down a moment later by an excited little girl who was picked up and swung around, squealing and laughing lightly.

Laughing, Ryan shook his head in amusement before making his way to one of the empty chairs around the terrace table, hearing the sound of his friend's footfalls behind him. "Jake, this is Spencer and Brendon. You know Jon, and the little boy in the sandbox is Isaac, Brendon's son," he introduced. "Guys, this is Jaken Larsson, my friend from university, now a professional photographer."

Isaac, once again, looked up when his name was said, and regarded the newest addition with curiosity before walking over. He climbed into his father's lap, and stared at Jake. Brendon extended his own hand in greeting, apologizing that he wasn't standing up, but he really didn't want to make Isaac crankier than he already was by moving him again. Spencer followed suit, shaking Jake's hand and smiling widely. Jon simply nodded once in welcome, but didn't open his mouth to say hello. When he caught Lucía's eye, though, he winked and then crossed his eyes to make her giggle.

When the silence had stretched out for long enough, Spencer spoke up. "Well, I think Keely's very lucky to have two uncles who care for her so much," he said, smiling, and looked at Jon, but his friend was still sulking and didn't acknowledge the compliment.  
  
"She definitely is," Ryan agreed with a smile, determined to ignore the tension if it couldn't be sorted out. He smiled at his daughter who grinned back before settling on the easiest option and starting a conversation back up with his closest friend. "So, how are things back home?" he asked, taking one of the free glasses and pouring ice-cold sangría from the jar, small bits of fruit coming with the liquid and settling to float on top of the sweet drink.

Jaken rolled his eyes. "Oh, you know, it's rained incessantly for the last week, and my neighbors keep fighting so I don't really get a lot of sleep." His face lit up again. "But hey, exhibit!"

Ryan laughed at his friend's excitement, feeling more than a little proud of his accomplishments. "And Mathias and the guys?"

"Planning another album," Jaken answered. "So I'll expect you're going to get a call soon." He paused for a moment, thinking as he sat down in the last empty seat. "Oh, and  _Daybreak_  has moved to number three on the bestseller list," he added. "Congratulations, Mr. H."

A smile broke over Ryan's face at the revelation. "That's awesome," he exclaimed. Then he grimaced. "They're translating it into Indian," he stated, wrinkling his nose. " _Indian_ , what the heck?"

His friend merely laughed and rolled his eyes. "Also, Mea broke up with me, but it wasn't really going anywhere, so it's for the best."

Ryan grimaced slightly. "Sorry," he muttered. "But hey, girl was a right bitch anyway. You're better off without her." The words were probably a bit empty since he knew that despite the nonchalant words of his friend, Jaken had really liked the girl. Ryan hadn't, really, but it wasn't exactly his business. He should probably reconsider refusing to let Jaken stay in his room, then. His friend probably needed the comfort. He'd think about that later.

Jaken shrugged and settled into silence except for a slight tickle to Lucía's side, which made her squeal and slip off, giving a pout before she walked over to Jon instead. "Uncle Jake's mean," she grumbled, crossing her arms over her small chest.

Jon refrained from telling Jaken that, maybe, the girl had left him because he enjoyed fucking a certain someone else who most definitely wasn't her. Instead, he smirked when Lucía came to him. "I know," he said, making it sound sad and comforting. He picked her up and set her on his lap, and all was right in the world again. He looked over at Brendon, who was staring, unseeingly, at the floor, seemingly in deep thought, and Isaac who was sitting in his lap and squirming around, muttering something under his breath which sounded suspiciously like 'prick'. Jon made a face and quickly looked away, knowing that it was his fault that Isaac had a potty mouth this time.

Isaac slipped off of his father's lap and ran towards the doors to get inside. He looked up, and then looked back over his shoulder, but Brendon wasn't paying attention, for once. "Ry-un!" he yelled and stomped his foot before pointing at the door. "'Cer!" he added, just in case Ryan wasn't listening and Spencer was. He put his hand near his mouth and made a motion that looked like he was imitating a duck with his fingers, which generally just meant that he was hungry. Brendon finally looked up and rolled his eyes, chuckling a bit. "Use your words, Isaac," he said, but was ignored.  
  
Ryan took a moment to try and work out what the boy was trying to say before he got it. Then he got to his feet and walked to the doors, grabbing Isaac's hand gently and leading him into the house. "Señora Sanchez is making dinner right now," he informed. "But maybe we can sneak down to the kitchen and see if she has something we can taste, huh?"  


Isaac gripped Ryan's hand and nodded. He was silent for a few minutes before looking up at Ryan and grinning. "Is there gonna to be chocolate?" he asked. He'd really liked the chocolate this morning, but Papa hadn't let him have much.  
  
Ryan shook his head, smiling at the full sentence in English. "You  _do_  speak," he said, patting the boy's head gently. "Clever boy. But no, the chocolate goes with the churros, and that's breakfast foods. Like pancakes and waffles, you know? But she'll probably have something else that's yummy." With that they reached the kitchen, and Ryan led Isaac inside before lifting him up and setting him on the small table where he and Lucía would sometimes eat when the weather was bad and the dining room felt  too large for just two people. He smiled at the housekeeper. "Do you have any food we can taste?" he asked slowly, carefully pronouncing each word. The woman understood English somewhat, but didn't speak a word of it.

The busty woman smiled and cooed at Isaac before opening the fridge and taking out the large bowl of flan and a small plate, on which she spooned a small scoop of the pudding. She added a teaspoon and handed over the plate. "Comida bueno para un chico guapo," she gushed before returning to preparing the main course.

Isaac eyed the plate suspiciously before swivelling his gaze to the woman. "Qu'est-ce qu'elle a dit?" he asked, showing his confusion. He then pointed at the plate and looked up at Ryan through his bangs. "Whassit?" he squirmed a bit on the table as he went back to staring at the vaguely familiar stuff being offered.

"Caramel pudding," Ryan answered with a small smile. "It's yummy, really. The first time Keely had any she ate so much that she got a tummy ache. It's that good." He took the spoon and scooped up a bit before handing the spoon over. "Try it."  
  
Isaac took the spoon and shoved it into his mouth, staring at the woman in the kitchen as he got all the pudding off the spoon and swallowed. He grinned and looked back at Ryan, handing him back the spoon, thinking he might want some, as well. "What she said 'fore?" he asked, carefully finding the right words in English. "It was like French.." he added, shaking his head to tell Ryan he hadn't understood.  
  
"She said that it was good food for a handsome boy," Ryan answered, laughing slightly. "I think she likes you," he added, scooping up another spoonful and ate it, closing his eyes slightly over the taste. He was quite sure Lucía had gotten her love for all things caramel from him, she just had yet to learn restraint. He handed the spoon back, unable to resist mussing Isaac's hair slightly. "Are you liking Spain so far, then?" he asked, making sure not to alter his voice or words too much for the benefit of the boy. Lucía had taught him that speaking normally to a child was really the best thing you could do. 

Isaac ate another spoonful of the pudding, making happy little noises as he did, and then nodded. "I liked your house, and I liked swimming on your back, but not water," he stated, and switched to shaking his head to emphasize the last part. He frowned a bit. "Mais Papa n'aime pas être içi," he said. He looked up at Ryan, his expression a mixture of sadness and questioning. "Papa doesn't liked it," he said, just in case Ryan hadn't understood.  
  
Ryan sighed, trying to think about how to respond. He had half a mind to just answer the first comments and hope the boy would forget the last bits. "I like you too, and swimming with you," he stated. "And I don't like water much when it's cold either." He bit his lip, thinking. "And I do like your dad. I think the reason he doesn't seem to like it much here is that we used to be... friends." He looked the other way, absent-mindedly stroking Isaac's raven hair. "But things went bad and we haven't talked in a long, long time. Sometimes stuff like that can hurt forever, you know?"

Isaac cooed a bit, imitating what he'd heard grown-ups do, and lifted his hand to pet Ryan's hair. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," he murmured, obviously trying to make Ryan feel better.

It was impossible not to let out a laugh at the words, so that's what Ryan did, turning and giving Isaac one of the brief half-hugs that Lucía had never liked much because she was such a cuddler and two seconds was far from long enough. He figured they were probably better suited for a boy anyway. "It's okay," he stated, still wearing a small smile. "Just be good to your papa, okay? I think that will make it easier for him."

Before Isaac could say anything, he turned towards the entrance of the kitchen and spotted his father peeking in. "I was starting to think you'd kidnapped my son," Brendon said with a nervous little laugh, because he really had started to get anxious. He'd wandered inside and then spent a few minutes looking for the kitchen before hearing voices and following them. Coming into the kitchen, Brendon smiled at Isaac and wiped his mouth with his thumb. "What have you been eating, Little Boy?" he asked, chuckling when Isaac made a face at him before motioning towards the plate of pudding.

"He was hungry," Ryan answered, fighting to keep from blushing and hoping pretty desperately that Brendon hadn't heard the conversation. "Señora Sanchez got him some flan, and we've been hanging out down here for a bit," he stated, managing a smile. "He's a really good kid, Brendon," he added. "You did well."

A moment later Señora Sanchez was pushing them all out of the kitchen and ordering them back to the table for dinner. Ryan shrugged and followed the instructions. 

Brendon hefted Isaac into his arms, feeling happy that Ryan thought he was a good kid, and followed him to the table. The tension outside had been way too high, which was what had prompted Brendon to leave in the first place, and it didn't look like it had dissipated once they joined the other three men once again. Lucía, though, looked perfectly content with her two uncles basically fighting for her attention.  


Ryan sighed slightly, but was at a loss about what to do. Ignoring the tension wasn't helping, but he didn't know what else would either. "So..." he started as he sat down, waiting for the housekeeper to show up with their meals. "What does everyone want to do tonight?"

Jon shrugged in response to the question. When he was with Ryan and Lucía, he was there to spend time with them and they rarely did much at night because their days could get pretty packed. Beside him, Spencer smiled politely, but pointed out that he had no idea what there was to do around here, and Brendon was too busy whispering to Isaac to answer. He was telling the little boy that tomorrow he would have to spend a few hours without his Papa, and that if he was good, Brendon would bring him something back from in town. Isaac heard him, and Brendon knew he understood perfectly, but he got no response from the boy, which saddened him because he had heard him talking to Ryan, though he hadn't heard the actual conversation.  
  
Holding back both the sighs and grimaces he'd felt coming on at the fact that apparently no one felt inclined to help him smooth things over, Ryan looked down at his hands, still deep in thought. As many times before he had half a mind to lock Jon and Jaken in a room together and tell them not to come out until they had sorted their differences. But he didn't really want his two best friends stuck in a room out of his reach for the rest of their lives either, which left him very few options. "Well, sweetie," he said, sending a small smile at his daughter. "Maybe you could show Isaac your playroom after dinner?" The little girl nodded eagerly, a proud smile on her face at the prospects of maybe getting the responsibility of looking after someone else. "If Isaac wants to, of course," he added. And then the rest of them could go to the formal living room with its bar and get drunk out of their minds. Maybe that would make some of the tension disappear. And he really was out of ideas.  


"Do you want to go play with Keely after dinner, Little Boy?" Brendon asked, setting Isaac in his lap more comfortably. The boy looked over at Keely and grinned, giggling a bit and clapping his hands. "Jouets!" he exclaimed, causing Brendon and Spencer to chuckle, as well. "Isaac would love to play," Brendon confirmed. "He hopes you have a lot of toys," he said, winking. He was glad Isaac would have someone to play with. He didn't have anyone at home, mainly because Brendon had insisted that he be home-schooled, and so he didn't really know how to act with other children. Maybe this would do him some good, though.  
  
Ryan laughed and winked at Lucía who was shining like a little sun with pride and joy. "Lots and lots," she confirmed. "Daddy gives me stuff for birthdays and Christmas only because I shouldn't be spoilt, but Uncle Jon and Uncle Jaken give me stuff all the time." She grinned at Isaac. "I'll even let you play with my very favoritest teddy bear," she promised.  


"Sounds like someone is going to have a good time," Ryan stated, looking up to see Señora Sanchez come bustling out with plates and cutlery and drinks. She set them out quickly with a practiced hand before hurrying off for the main course. "I guess us grown-ups will have to make do with that rockstar-contaminated living room, huh?" He smiled slightly at Lucía's giggle, and a second later the housekeeper was back once again with a large bowl of salad, another with paella and the small device that held salt, pepper, olive oil and vinegar. "Well," he muttered, suddenly a little awkward again. "Dig in."

Brendon seemed to take the advice to heart and ate, saying many times that everything was absolutely delicious. Isaac picked from his plate, chattering, mostly to himself, but sometimes looking at Keely and apparently trying to engage her in conversation, though he mostly stuck to French. Jon and Spencer also ate heartily, talking quietly between the two of them for the most part, with Jon completely ignoring Jaken and Spencer trying to include him, only to be shot down in his attempts to be polite.

***

Ryan had been incredibly grateful when the tense meal was over. Jaken had seemed incredibly uncomfortable and Ryan had felt more than a little guilty for having invited his friend for a nice, quiet week in the Mediterranean and have him arrive to dirty looks and badly concealed dislike. He had quickly sent the children off to play in Lucía's playroom for a bit, grateful that they didn't seem to have noticed the tension. Now he was leading the other men into the 'formal' living room, making a bee-line for the bar. He still hadn't gotten a better idea than the getting-everyone-drunk thing, so that's what he was sticking to. "What does everyone want?" he asked as he poured himself a rum and coke.

"Vodka, straight, no ice," Brendon was the first to say anything, and he immediately felt a bit like an alcoholic. But he'd had the awkwardest day of all time and he really needed something to loosen up, so he wasn't going to let this opportunity pass, especially when he'd barely had a drink in years. In fact, after the vodka, maybe he'd have some whiskey and then some rum and... he really wanted to get hammered. Spencer asked for some vodka, but also requested some orange juice to go with it. Jon asked for the same, but Brendon knew it was more so that Spencer wouldn't feel completely left out when he was the only one not completely sloshed. Spencer just didn't drink, really, never had, and Jon had learned to do the same.  
  
Setting about making the drinks with a practised hand, Ryan hummed slightly to himself, making a mental note to get that demo done soon. Finally he opened the fridge again and pulled out one of the beers he always kept around for Jaken's sake. At this point in his life he believed he might as well have been a fully trained bartender. He supposed that came with the territory of constantly playing host to spoilt musicians. Finally he put everything on a tray and walked back over, balancing it neatly before putting it down on the table and plopping into his own chair with the glass in his hand. "So, any good ideas?"  
  
Brendon downed a big gulp of vodka, happy that Ryan had given him more than just a shot's worth. He watched Jon and Spencer sip theirs and chuckled a bit, tilting his head back. He shook his head, taking another gulp and grimacing at the taste. He hated that he was such an easy tipsy, but he guessed that it would make things just a bit better tonight. "This is so fucking weird," he finally announced, taking another sip of vodka. He sighed loudly and closed his eyes. So, so weird.  
  
Ryan laughed slightly. "Yeah, I guess we've never actually drunk together before. I did that with Spencer and Jon." He shook his head slightly and took a deep gulp. Then he looked at Spencer and Jon with another chuckle. "Remember those games we used to play? Up for another one now?"  


Jon groaned and shook his head, but Brendon yelled yes so loudly that it definitely trumped anything Jon could have said. He sat cross-legged on the couch and looked at Ryan attentively, waiting for him to explain what game they would play. He fiddled a bit with his glass before taking another, bigger, sip, and then smiled when he heard Isaac yelling from upstairs. But it was a happy yell, something about winning, and he was babbling in French. He felt sorry for Keely, who probably couldn't understand anything, but he was sure they were having fun.  
  
Biting his lip, Ryan thought it over for a moment. "Well," he finally started, looking at Jon and Spencer. "You've never actually played 'I never' with Ryan  _Ross_ , have you?" he asked with a small grin, taking another sip. "No lies this time," he reassured before setting his glass down and walking back to the bar, fishing out five shot glasses along with bottles of rum, vodka, tequila and whiskey so hopefully everyone would find something to their liking. He gave the still uncomfortable-looking Jaken a reassuring smile before sitting back down, filling his own shot glass with vodka in preparation.  


Brendon grimaced at the memory, remembering that Ryan had done that drinking while he'd been off to the conference. And then he remembered what had happened when he had come back and he covered his face with his hands pitifully. Right, well, obviously he was emotional and loud when he started drinking and just couldn't hold his liquor at all. He knew he would make a fool of himself, but he did feel a bit better when Spencer started rubbing his back. He heard Jon agree readily to playing the game, and so did Spencer. "Who's going first?" Spencer asked, sounding completely sober and calm, even as he rubbed Brendon's back; Brendon, who looked like he was crying but wasn't; who was upset about something and Spencer had no clue what that was.  
  
Ryan thought for a moment, biting his lip as he tried to come up with something soft and easy to start off on. "I've never had a pet," he finally stated with a shrug, leaning farther into the chair and taking another sip of his drink.

Jaken rolled his eyes and downed his tequila shot before grimacing slightly. "This really needs a bit of salt," he stated.  


Brendon grudgingly took a gulp of his drink, glaring at Spencer, who was chuckling. He'd had a parakeet a very long time ago and had hated the bird with a passion. His father had made him keep the annoying thing in his room and Brendon had actually taken to spending almost no time at all in that room. Of course, this had been when he'd been around ten, but he still remembered and hated the bird.  


"I've never eaten so much ice cream that I promptly threw up all over my best friends shoes!" Jon announced, turning a silly grin on Spencer, who glared at him as he drank, and then muttered about how it was unfair to target only one person.  
  
Ryan laughed slightly, shaking his head to get rid of the mental image. Then he decided that for the moment maybe it would be good to revert to some of the true stories he'd told while he was pretending to be Hastings. Maybe something to do with the pop sickle story or something, if they even remembered that. Before he had the chance to speak, though, Jaken sent him a teasing smile that promised that Ryan's shot wouldn't go untouched much longer. Sometimes he really regretted having a best friend who knew everything about him. "I've never been in love," Jaken finally stated, voice more somber than his previous glance would have suggested, and maybe there was something a little wistful in his gaze. Ryan simply rolled his eyes and picked up his shot glass, downing it in one go before putting it back down and filling it again. "One shot for every time it's happened," he added, looking mostly at the other three. After all, Ryan mused, Jaken would know that Ryan honestly only had to drink once.  


Brendon hesitated for a long time before finally downing his own shot, his gaze glued to the floor. He tried to think of his own 'I never...' but he couldn't concentrate at the moment, and was grateful when Spencer cleared his throat to speak. "I never thought that Brendon or Ryan would ever have kids-- not even if they were still together," he said wryly, shooting a grin at Brendon. Jon, Spencer and Brendon himself all abstained from drinking on that one because it was true-- children had never been in their plans. Not that any of them regretted it at all, now that there were children in the picture.  
  
Reaching out, Ryan picked up his shot glass again and drank down half of it. "I never thought  _I'd_  have children," he informed. "I kind of always thought Brendon would, though," he explained with a small shrug, filling the glass once more. 

Jaken merely shrugged. "I didn't know Ryan before he had Lucía," he stated. "Didn't really get to think anything. Same thing with Brendon, though I can't exactly say I know the bloke yet."  


Ryan laughed lightly, shaking his head, deciding to go with that old story. After all, he knew it was also something that would force everyone else to drink. "I've never had a gag reflex," he stated easily, crossing one leg loosely over the other so his ankle rested on the opposite knee.  


Brendon let his mouth drop open and he stared at Ryan before shaking his head slowly and took a tiny little sip. Hey! It wasn't his fault he'd been completely ignorant as to how sex worked between two men. It wasn't like he could have practiced.... "I've never tested the theory." It was Spencer who spoke sheepishly, looking rather embarrassed. Beside him, Jon nodded, vaguely horrified.  


"Uh...  I've never... gone more than two months without having sex," Jon said, then frowned a bit. Was it sad that he had sex often but was never in relationships? And that he'd been pretty much hiding his activities from Brendon and Spencer since they were sixteen? "Well, you know, since I lost my virginity," he added hastily, then chuckled at the absurdity of him having sex when he was really young. Which was really kind of disgusting. He watched Spencer and Brendon drink, and they both looked at him with the same slightly-confused faces.  
  
With a roll of his eyes, Ryan picked up his glass again and emptied it before filling it yet again, this time pouring whiskey in it, though. It seemed Jon had gotten everyone but himself with that one. Not that Ryan had really gone long periods without except the first while after getting to England and again when Lucía had come, but in those periods it had definitely been more than two months.  


"Oh, I know!" Jaken started, sending Ryan another one of those looks that promised a shot glass and possible humiliation to be on the way. "I've never been goodie-two-shoes enough to stay a virgin until I was twenty-three," he stated with a loud laugh.  


"I'm black-listing you," Ryan grumbled, emptying the whiskey. He was definitely starting to feel it now. Still not a lot more than a pleasant buzz, but he was on the fast track to Very Drunk. "You are not my best friend anymore."

Brendon stared at his glass, trying to do the calculation in his head, because.... hadn't Ryan been twenty-three when they'd been together? And hadn't he...? Looking slightly sick, Brendon put his glass down and brought his knees up to his chest, hugging them close. He couldn't believe that Ryan had let him believe that he'd had more experience! He would have-- he would have been more careful, or he wouldn't have even done it! The fact that Ryan had also put himself through a lot of shit dawned on him. He hadn't been the only one hurt, had he?  
  
Next to Brendon, Spencer cringed slightly and then emptied his glass in one shot. He avoided looking at his friends and instead stared resolutely at the floor. Beside him, Jon had turned and was probably gaping, closing his mouth, and then gaping again. "What!" he spluttered, and Spencer shrugged, but didn't offer any explanation.   


Ryan bit his lip slightly, quite deep in thought about not only Spencer's revelation, but also about finding some other thing to point out. "I've never..." he stated, thinking hard about something to say. Then he suddenly connected the two, and maybe it was a little mean but he liked to think of it as helping two people he cared for along a bit on their road to happiness or eternal bliss or whatever. Or maybe he was just a slightly mean drunk. "I've never been in love with one of my best friends," he stated with a slight smirk.  


Spencer had just finished refilling his glass with some vodka when Ryan said his 'I never...' and he looked up quickly, staring at Ryan. He knew! Growling softly, Spencer quickly drank, hoping that no one would notice, but  _of course_  they had. Jon turned to him, surprised again. "You're in love with Brendon!?" he demanded, looking highly offended. Spencer rolled his eyes and cuffed Jon's head not-so-lightly. "You're an idiot," he muttered, and left it at that.   


Those few comments had Ryan doubled over, laughing before he finally got a hold of himself, shaking his head as he slowly calmed down. "I think you should both get your eyes checked," he informed. "Because being unable to see what's right in front of you isn't usually considered a good sign at all." He rolled his shoulders slightly before giving a slight sigh of relief as his back popped and tension was released. "Brendon," he stated. "You haven't really come up with any yet, have you?"  


Just hearing Ryan speak to him so casually made him want to hurt him. Brendon clenched his jaw and shook his head stiffly. He hated that Ryan was apparently completely alright with everything in his life, while Brendon was still longing for  _something_. He felt an uncomfortable churning in his stomach as he looked back at Ryan and sighed loudly. "I.... have never lied to someone that I claimed to be in love with," he finally stated, rather triumphantly. He smiled innocently, ignoring Spencer's soft gasp and Jon's glare.  _They_  hadn't been the ones really hurt, after all.

Ryan felt something in his stomach clench at that comment. Or maybe he'd just had too much to drink already. Taking a deep breath, he reached out and picked up his shot glass, downing it once more before practically slamming it on the table. Well, at least he knew one thing. Brendon was now twenty-five years old, but he hadn't changed or matured one bit. And that only confirmed him in the knowledge that he had done the right thing by kicking him out all those years ago, that Ryan would've been torn to shreds long ago, wouldn't even exist as more than some empty shell now if he hadn't saved himself. "I've never intentionally made a personal attack in a drinking game out of spite because I'm too immature to know how to forgive and forget and maybe walk a mile in someone else's shoes," he said, words low and practically spat out. Then he grasped his bigger glass, the one with the rum and coke and lemon slices and half-melted ice cubes in it and got up from the chair, still fuming. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I think I'll go watch the sunset or whatever the fuck else instead. Has got to be better than five grown men who can't even stop hating each other when they're drunk off their asses."

"And I've never slept with someone just to get information out of them!" Brendon yelled, but he knew he was being immature, and that Ryan was right. He huffed, getting up from his chair and stomping up stairs to his room, leaving the other three in stunned silence. Spencer burst out laughing, recovering before his two companions.

"I'm sorry, I just--, it's pretty clear that  _someone_  hasn't gotten over someone else," he said, still chuckling a bit and shaking his head. "Too bad Brendon is too proud to admit that it's himself he's angry at."

***

It was nearly entirely dark out over the ocean already, but the tall cliffs to his left and the landscape around and behind the villa were awash in a sea of pastels. In between leaving in an angry snit or whatever the hell else it was he'd been doing and coming out onto the balcony, he'd forgotten to pick up a jacket or blazer, but although the cool evening breeze called goose flesh to his skin, he didn't feel it as more than a pleasant cooling down from the heat of beginning drunkenness. His head felt a lot clearer already. And fuck, had that been stupid or what? Brendon was a spoilt brat, it was how he was raised, but Ryan was older and supposedly smarter and a lot less temperamental. So for him to explode and stage a dramatic exit... Well, he'd always been somewhat of a melodramatic drunk, but still. He supposed it was really all down to the fact that although he was well over Brendon and had been for years, the fact that someone had decided to kick him when he was already down and then been too blind to see that anything was wrong, well that still hurt, made him feel insignificant and almost less human. He hadn't thought about it in years, but suddenly he was remembering all the negative feelings way too easily.

He took a gulp from his glass and shook his head slightly to clear it, returning his gaze to the view. It was stunning out here, and something about how it looked so different and yet entirely the same every night was starting to calm and soothe him. "Well," he said to no one in particular. "At least I can be sure I haven't missed out on anything positive." He laughed a little, although the sound wasn't exactly a happy one. "If I'd had any lingering regrets, they'd be very gone now." And then he suddenly realized that he was thinking out loud again, a habit he'd thought he kicked when Jon was staying with him after he'd just gotten Lucía. He groaned and rolled his eyes. Seemed like his mind had decided it would be a splendid idea to go back in time a bit.

*** 

After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence with two people who hated each other (or, maybe, just Jon was doing the hating), Spencer cleared his throat. "So, um... You visit a lot, then?" he asked Jaken, smiling a bit and taking a sip of his drink. Might as well make nice with Ryan's friends. It was the least he could do, what with them showing up completely unannounced and now Brendon doing  _this_.

"Yeah," the blond answered. "Here and in England both, but Ryan and Keely have been spending more and more time here lately, what with how many clients he's starting to get, so lately I've been trying to get out of work often and come down here to see them." He laughed uncomfortably. "Been considering doing a photo series of the area. It's lovely nature, would definitely do for some good shots. Plus, then I'd be paid to visit."  


Spencer chuckled, sitting back and nodding. "That sounds like fun, and I'm sure you'd get a ton of amazing shots," he assured. He sighed a bit sadly and shrugged. "Now that I know that Ryan has a daughter, I'd like to see him more often," he glanced at Jon. "Since I only found out that he had all of this going for him when we got here, and it was quite a surprise, let me tell you-- but, I'd like to visit and get to know Keely. I hadn't realized how much I missed being his friend, and when Brendon came back to us years ago, sobbing about their ended relationship, well-- I had to be there for him..." he trailed off and sighed. 

Something about Jaken's facial expression seemed to close off slightly and he took a gulp of his beer before clearing his throat. "The problem, I suppose," he stated after a while. "Is that no one was there for Ryan. He was alone in a country he didn't know with no people he knew, and the war had half destroyed him. Brendon took care of the rest, I believe." He bit his lip slightly, hesitant about revealing too many things that his friend had told him in confidence. "He was lonely and broken and he got into a lot of shoddy relationships on that account. To be entirely honest he was still a mess when I first met him. And I understand wanting to be there for the person who's been your friend the longest, but I suppose I'll never stop finding it unfair that Brendon had all the support and Ryan nothing." He grimaced slightly. "I really wish I'd known him soon enough to be of more help." Then he seemed to chase the somber expression off his face, smiling lightly. "I'm sure he'd love to re-establish contact with you, though. And Keely can never get enough uncles, as long as they make sure to give her presents. Ryan is pretty social, but he doesn't like reaching out much, so I think he'd really appreciate it if you did it for him."  


Spencer made a face, staring at his nearly empty glass. "Brendon said that Ryan had told him to leave," he said softly. "And, after everything that had happened during school and everything Ryan had revealed, I did feel that Brendon needed me a lot more," he confessed with a little shrug. "I knew... a part of Ryan, but I didn't know him well enough to judge whether or not he would need help, as well." Spencer sighed and looked over at Jon, who was glaring at a spot on the wall. He rolled his eyes. "I mean, honestly--" he cut himself off and finished off his drink, taking a deep breath. He didn't want to rehash the past with this man who hadn't been there and didn't know what had happened- at least not first hand. He wouldn't explain his reasoning, either, to someone who must only know the worst of Brendon, and think the worst of him. He shrugged again. 

"Ryan was head over heels in love with that lad," Jaken stated, his voice gone a bit quiet by then. "How bad would it have had to become, do you think, for him to ask the bloke he thought was the love of his life to get out and never come back?" He sighed and shook his head. "I don't blame you," he stated. "Wouldn't dream of it. I understand the need to be with the friend you've known the longest or feel the closest to, but my point is that I wish things could've been different. It shouldn't have been up to some bloke he met more than three years after the fact to put things back together."

Spencer cringed and nodded his agreement, even as Jon made an angry sound. "I'm sorry," he ground out. "But I recall being there for him when he didn't even want Lucía because he was scared out of his fucking mind. So don't fucking go telling everyone what you  _put back together_ ," Jon spat, shaking with anger. Spencer, eyes wide, put a hand on his arm to calm him down, not completely sure why Jon was getting so upset.  
  
Jaken appeared to think things through very deeply before he sighed again. "Jon, in all honesty your first priority between Ryan and Keely has been Keely since the first time you saw her. And I know it's partly Ryan's own fault since he depended on you for her sake and not his own and because he just had no idea how to deal with her. He didn't have time to work out his own issues at that point, much less ask others for help. And then you returned to America and suddenly he only saw you maybe three or four times a year. I won't say you didn't help him because I know that you did, but what I know is that when I first met him he still woke up from nightmares about the war most nights, he still cried himself to sleep every once in a while and he still went pale and mute and withdrew into himself completely whenever something would remind him of Brendon." He rolled his eyes slightly, although there wasn't anything really deprecating about the movement, more something regretful. "You're not going to agree with me, obviously, since you've never once agreed with me on anything, so I don't see why we're even discussing it. Now I'm going to go get Ryan off the balcony. He should've cooled off by now, but if I know him right he hasn't got a jacket with him and will be catching a cold if he doesn't get in soon. Shame that he doesn't seem to feel it in some moods." He rolled his eyes again, but this time it was more in fond amusement. Then he downed the last of his beer and got up from his chair, quickly exiting the room.  


As soon as Jaken left, Jon went back to his sulking. Sighing softly, Spencer put a hand on his arm and squeezed for a moment before getting up and making his way upstairs. He checked in on Brendon-- the boy was already fast asleep-- and then made his way to his own bedroom to be alone with his thoughts.

Brendon woke with a start after his door had closed. He'd only been dozing... Sighing and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand-- even after such a small nap it tasted rank, he hurried to the washroom to rinse before heading towards the playroom. How had he forgotten to put Isaac to bed! He slipped into the large room to see Isaac looking like he was about to pass out and he smiled a bit to himself when he noticed that his little boy was still valiantly trying to play, even with how tired he looked. Chuckling quietly, he swooped down to pick Isaac up, who let out a little surprised sound before snuggling against him. He held out his hand for Keely. "Would you like me to tuck you in, or would you like to wait for your father or Jon?" he asked quietly, part of him afraid that she would reject him, another part of him hoping that she would wait for someone who knew her nightly routine better. Why he felt so torn around this little girl, he couldn't fathom. He was torn about Ryan and that was more than enough.

"You can tuck me in!" Lucía declared with a wide grin before cutting herself off with a small yawn, raising her small fists to rub at her eyes tiredly, teddy bear tucked neatly under her elbow. "If you promise to sing a song," she added. "I sleep better when someone sings, and Daddy and Uncle Jon and Uncle Jaken don't really sing that well, but they try and I still like it." She yawned again, hugging the stuffed toy to her chest. "Isaac can sleep in my room if he wants," she offered. "We can have a sleepover!"

Brendon mentally groaned at the thought of having to sing. It only brought back memories about Ryan, who loved his singing-- or he had, anyway. He forced a smile, though, and nodded. "Alright," he said, though he wasn't sure he wanted Isaac sleeping in her room. Not because he didn't like her, more because he would feel lonely without him there by his side. He'd gotten used to sleeping with Isaac close by, because in the beginning Isaac couldn't sleep alone, and then when he could, Brendon didn't want to sleep alone. And so he ignored that part of what Lucía had said and hoped that Isaac would choose him, instead. He trailed after the little girl as they made their way to her room. "What song would you like?" Brendon asked carefully. "I'm afraid I don't know many children's songs," he said, chuckling a bit. He usually just hummed for Isaac, and the boy would fall asleep instantly.

"I like what Daddy writes," Lucía stated as she walked to her bed and pulled her pajamas out from under the blankets. "But you don't know those, do you?" she continued as she shimmied out of her dress and into the nightclothes before crawling onto her bed and under the covers. She was deep in thought for a moment, her whole face scrunched up with it even as she held back another yawn. "There's this one Uncle Jon sings a lot," she finally said. "It's about a little girl going to sleep and an angel looking down to make sure there are no nightmares and that her family will still be there and be all right when she wakes up. Do you know it?"  


Brendon sat down on the bed and settled Isaac, who was almost sleeping and made little whimpers in protest, on his lap. He smiled a bit at Jon's song and nodded. "Yeah, I know that one," he said, before taking a deep, shaky breath. He started to hum first, and then softly began to sing the song, even as he searched for the words that he barely remembered. Somehow, he was able to get it right. He could feel Isaac's soft breath on his throat and he smiled softly as he sang, hoping he was singing low enough that no one would hear him but Lucía and his son.

Lucía was out like a light only a minute or two in, a soft smile on her face at the sound of one of her favourite songs sung in one of the most beautiful voices she'd ever heard.

***

Ryan was startled enough by the hands suddenly settling on his shoulders to jump a few inches on the chair before he turned his head slightly and gave a sigh of relief on recognizing Jaken. "Hey," he muttered, wrapping his arms lightly around himself.

"Hey yourself," his friend answered with a bit of a laugh. "I just knew you'd gone outside with no jacket and would be well on your way to catching a world-class cold." He paused for a moment, a look of concern on his face. "Better?" he asked.

The older of the two nodded after a moment, rolling his eyes self-deprecatingly. "Yeah. I've just never cared much for his asshole side, and I honestly thought that maybe he'd have grown up a little by now." He smiled wryly. "What does it matter, though?" he asked. "They're here for a couple of weeks and then I won't see him again for at least a couple of years. It's not like it matters." 

"It does, though," Jaken argued. "You spent too long getting over that kid to let him get to you now, okay? Just ignore him, okay? If you don't respond chances are that he'll stop anyway. Or maybe even start to realize how stupid he sounds." Then he gently grasped Ryan's upper arm and pulled him out of the chair before putting a steadying arm around him. "Hell, you're pissed out of your bloody mind," he stated with a laugh, steering the older man towards the door. "Let's get you to bed, mate."

***

Brendon had gotten a little lost in the song, and with Isaac still squirming in his lap, he continued the song for his son, even more softly this time, though loud enough for Isaac to hear comfortably. He hugged his son close and sang until he could hear the even breathing.

***

They were passing Lucía's door on the way to Ryan's room and Ryan stopped short for a moment, breath catching in his throat at the sound of the singing he hadn't heard in years. Then he shook his head, shooting those thoughts away. At least he knew Lucía was taken care of for the moment. "Come on," he whispered, grasping Jaken's hand and pulling him through the next door, leaning in and pressing their lips together.

Jaken pulled away after only a moment, shaking his head. "Not tonight, Ry," he muttered. "You're upset, and it's only going to do us more harm than good." He smiled lightly. "Get in your jammies and we'll just have a nice cuddle, okay?" 

Ryan sighed but gave in and did as he was told. 

***

Once Isaac was asleep, Brendon reluctantly put him on the bed next to Keely, biting his lip for a moment before resolutely walking out of the room and closing the light. He left the door open, just in case, and stopped in front of Ryan's room. Was he in his room? Should Brendon go tell him that his daughter was asleep? Brendon hesitated, but in the end he knew that it was the right thing to do, just to let Ryan know that his daughter was fine and fast asleep. He cleared his throat softly and knocked on the door once, half hoping Ryan wouldn't be there.

Ryan, who'd been squirming around in a quest to get comfortable before finally finding the right fit with his own back against Jaken's chest, gave a slight groan at the thought of having to get up again. Now that he was lying down and calm it seemed he was suddenly a lot drunker than he'd been before. "I'll get it, shall I?" Jaken asked softly.

"What if it's Lucía?" Ryan asked in an objection they both knew wasn't actually heartfelt.

"Lucía knows we have 'sleepovers'," Jaken objected. "And she thinks it's always as innocent as tonight. She won't think twice about it, come bounding in as she always does." He was already untangling himself before he got up and padded across the floor in pajama pants and a large, rumpled t-shirt. Ryan gave a hum of agreement and watched as his friend opened the door and poked his head out. "Yeah?"

Brendon, who'd been staring at Keely's door, started slightly when he heard... Jaken? Biting his lip, he looked up and flinched a bit. "Keely is, um... asleep. And I- I left Isaac in there," he took a deep breath. "She wanted a sleepover," he mumbled quickly before offering a half smile and hurrying back to his own room. He closed the door quietly before leaning against it and closing his eyes. Christ, he was not going to survive this.

"Who was it?" Ryan asked groggily from the bed, making a slight, drunken grab at mid-air for his pillow back. He could read Jaken's expression well enough, though, that the answer kind of came to him. "Brendon?" he asked, getting a nod in return. He sighed. "I should go talk to him," he stated softly. "I think we have a lot of things to talk about before this whole thing is going to work." He bit his lip lightly before shaking his head to clear it. "What did he want?"  


"To say that Keely's asleep and that Isaac is in there with her," Jaken answered. "And you can talk to him tomorrow. Tonight you've had too much to drink to have a proper conversation about something like this. You and Brendon both, I believe. And I think it would only get worse if I tried to say anything to him." He sucked in a deep breath and crawled back in bed, spooning up behind Ryan once more. "Sleep now," he instructed. "Talk tomorrow."   


Ryan sighed and snuggled back into the heat with a contented hum. "Tomorrow," he agreed softly, and then he was asleep.   


***

Brendon was woken the next morning around 7:30, and for a second, he wasn't sure what had woken him. And then the screaming registered. Springing out of bed and tripping over his feet in his haste to get to Isaac-- he would recognize those screams anywhere-- he yanked open his own door and ran to Keely's room, looking flustered and exhausted. Isaac was sitting in the middle of the floor, his head thrown back and tears streaming down his face. Brendon quickly picked him up and rocked him gently, pressing his lips to the little boy's hair and murmuring over and over that he was sorry.

Spencer had hurried towards the sound of Isaac crying the moment he woke and now stood near the door, Jon at his side, watching Brendon with sad eyes. Brendon feared for his son, didn't like sleeping without him, and he was sure that after this, he would never let Isaac out of his sight, which could pose a problem in years to come. He sighed and Jon put a hand on his shoulder in support, but they both let Brendon have his room. Jon also made sure to keep an eye on Lucía, smiling at her reassuringly.

Lucía looked on with large, sad eyes, upset that her new friend hadn't liked the sleep-over. Maybe he just didn't like  _her_? Even with her Uncle Jon's supportive, normally calming, eyes, she felt a few tears slide down her cheeks and pushed off the bed, running past the three adults in her haste to get out of the door, and then she opened the one leading into her Daddy's room and raced across the floor until she caught sight of his morning-messy, brown, wavy locks. Once next to the bed she launched herself up, snuggling into her Daddy's arms, squirming and poking to wake him. "Isaac doesn't like me," she whined.  


Ryan opened his eyes groggily, blinking a few times as he automatically wrapped his arms tightly around his little girl, reaching up with his hand to use his thumb to wipe away the small trail of tears forming down her cheeks. "I'm sure he does," he stated as reassuringly as he could, suppressing a yawn. "Maybe he's just not used to sleepovers?" He kissed the top of her blond head gently. "Do you remember when you were smaller and only wanted to sleep in my room?" She nodded slowly, biting her tiny bottom lip. "Well, Isaac is smaller, right? So maybe he just wants to be with  _his_  Daddy." 

Lucía, who'd calmed down significantly even if a tear or two still made their occasional way out of her eyes, nodded as she snuggled in closer to his chest. "Do you really think so?" she asked, and her Daddy just nodded reassuringly.

***

When Isaac didn't stop his screaming, even with Brendon holding onto him tightly, Brendon figured that his real tears had turned into crocodile tears, and he probably just wanted to be held right now. He sighed and turned towards the door, smiling sleepily at his two friends, and took a few steps towards them. "Tell Keely Isaac just isn't ready for sleepovers, will you?" he asked, looking at Jon, who nodded. He smiled gratefully before slipping out of the room and walking to his own, trying to shush Isaac's wails. He sat his son on his bed and knelt in front of him. "Why are you crying, baby?" he asked softly, and Isaac hiccoughed, opening his eyes a bit before screaming again. Brendon sighed and pushed a lock of wet hair from Isaac's face. "Hey, if you stop crying, I'll make sure that you get some chocolate at breakfast," he offered, and he really wasn't above bribing his son. He chuckled a bit when Isaac's wails stopped almost immediately and he blinked blearily.

"Alright," Brendon said, smiling. He set about cleaning Isaac and dressing them both, really hoping that there <i>would</i> be chocolate with breakfast, again.

***

After maybe an hour of snuggling with what were probably his two favourite people in the world, Ryan felt much rejuvenated. He didn't have much by way of hangovers, had never really had an affinity for getting them, and so, when the clock neared nine, he herded everyone out of bed and made sure they would be ready for the breakfast that he knew Señora Sanchez would always serve promptly at nine. It was a few minutes to when all three of them, dressed and ready, left the bedrooms and headed down the stairs only to realize that the others had yet to show up. Ryan smiled and gave a small shrug, eyes sliding over the mouth-watering food on the table. "Well," he stated. "Their loss if all the good stuff's gone when they decide to come down."

Isaac barreled outside before his father was even on the stairs, and he stared at the three people around the breakfast table for a bit before sticking out his tongue and grinning, his own way of telling them he was completely fine, now. He made his way around the table, tapping Lucía's hand gently, and then doing the same to Ryan and Jaken's thighs. "Chocolat," he announced, smiling widely at his father when he appeared, and got a grin in return. Brendon sat down, bringing Isaac into his lap, and loaded his plate with everything that Isaac pointed at, giving him a good reason to avoid every one's gaze, for which he was glad.

Ryan bit his tongue to prevent himself from telling the younger man that with a child that small, the parent should be setting the diet. Children shouldn't have just anything they pointed at, no matter how hard he most definitely knew it was to resist the pouting and fake tears and big eyes. Spoiling a child was just that, spoiling. But then he supposed Brendon had probably never figured that out since he'd been spoilt himself and probably never realized how ugly it made parts of him. Besides, Isaac wasn't his son and it wasn't up to him to say what was or wasn't a good idea. It was just his problem when Lucía decided she wanted the same benefits. "You know the rules," he stated when she turned her begging gaze on him. "One churro with a little bit of chocolate, then real food and if you eat up, you can have another churro. Chocolate without churros isn't a breakfast food." She pouted even as she slowly, hesitantly did as she was told and Ryan had to refrain from glaring at Brendon. "So?" he instead started a while later. "You have a meeting tonight, don't you? How about we take all four of you into Barca to show you the city?"

Brendon considered ignoring Ryan, he really did, but instead he sighed softly and fed his son some of the churro and chocolate, which he munched on happily, before eating a bit himself. "I'm sorry, but-- I'm really considering having the conferences another time and leaving Isaac with his m-- Jenn when I come back down again, and stay in a hotel," he said, once he'd swallowed. There had been a reason he hadn't spoken to Ryan in all these years, and he was getting well acquainted with that reason all over again. And he knew it was selfish and  _immature_ , and that Ryan probably saw nothing in him at all anymore, but he couldn't stand it, and having Isaac cry this morning had just made everything hurt even more. He couldn't stand the sound, and it had happened here, with Ryan, making him just want to go home even more than he already had. He'd always wished that he and Ryan would get together again, and that everything would be perfect, but he was realizing what he should have long ago: it wouldn't happen. He bit his lip and fed Isaac some of the healthier parts of the breakfast, letting him have some orange juice, and smiling sadly when his son smacked his lips and giggled.

"Brendon..." Ryan started with a bit of a sigh. "From what Spencer told me about what you're doing here, you can maybe reschedule the dinners and hope the people will deign to meet with you again. The conferences... Aren't you only a guest speaker? Maybe you can cancel on a whim, but it'll hurt your reputation, you won't be invited again, and you won't get to contribute to possible peace in the area. Half the things you're here for don't revolve around you enough that you get to control when they happen. Those are the facts. Now, if we bother you so much, feel free to find a hotel, but for your own sake you should reconsider cancelling everything you've come here for. Spaniards are very easily offended and getting a bad name in Europe will probably not help you do what you're trying to do." He took a bite of the mixto, keeping calm even though he, despite the years of working through his Brendon-related problems until they didn't hurt nearly as much anymore, was offended and maybe a little wounded that Brendon couldn't even stand two days in his company. "You aren't a Prince anymore," he couldn't keep himself from stating. "You need to act like an adult to get people to see you as one." A moment of the shocked silence from the two other adults around the table and he flushed slightly. "I'm sorry," he stated. "I didn't mean to say that, I just... Brendon, maybe we need to talk? Go somewhere alone for a bit and get the air cleared a little?"  


Brendon closed his eyes and took a deep breath, letting Isaac slid off his lap when the boy started squirming. He opened his eyes, making sure his son wasn't going to get into any trouble, but the little boy had just gone around to Lucía's side to poke her arm. Brendon looked down at his plate and shook his head, sighing. He didn't want to talk to Ryan. He'd been doing just fine, he'd been able to pull himself back together, no matter what he wished deep down, and ignore all of his problems. And now a few days with his ex-boyfriend had managed to completely catch him off guard and mess things up. "I don't want to hear you say how you've gotten over me and how great your life is," he finally whispered. He swallowed thickly and shrugged, accepting that if Ryan thought he was weak or-- well, he could live with whatever Ryan thought of him, as long as they weren't in the same country, it seemed.

Ryan got off his chair and grasped Brendon's arm, bodily dragging the younger male out of the chair and onto his feet and back off the terrace. "Maybe you don't mind Isaac hearing certain things, but I'm damn sure we're moving towards stuff I'd rather Lucía didn't get an earful of." He sighed, loosening his grasp slightly so as to not leave bruises before he pulled Brendon the rest of the way into the formal living room and into one of the chairs. He plopped down in his own chair, right across from the former prince. "I got over you because I had no choice," he finally divulged, suddenly finding himself incapable of looking at Brendon. "Back then... I asked you to leave because I suddenly had this thought... that if we kept going like we were I didn't know how I would live to see thirty. And it tore me up. I missed you so much, but I couldn't let you destroy me and after you were gone, it still nearly did." He laughed humourlessly. "I'm not a strong enough person for someone like you," he stated. "In your thoughts and feelings and your need to push them on others, and the way you think you're always allowed whatever... you become the worst kind of domineering. I wouldn't be able to take it today, and I was most definitely too weak for it back then. When you're in a good mood, Brendon, you're one of the greatest, most radiant people I've ever met, and even though I  _am_  over you, I doubt I'll ever stop loving that side of you." He shook his head slightly. "Hell, if you displayed that again I could very easily fall head over heels once more no matter how much I don't want to. But my deception and insecurities and weakness and your shadow sides: spoilt attitude, mood-swings, lack of trust, tendency to lash out in the most hurtful ways... You have to be able to see that it doesn't fit together and that if we'd kept going regardless it would've spelled out disaster." He looked down, studying his nails. I didn't get over you because I wanted to but because I had to. And happy..." He paused for a moment, thinking it over. "I guess I'm content. I have a daughter I love, I have jobs I enjoy, I have good friends, even if I don't have particularly many. But it's still lonely, and it still hurts every day that the ideals I used to believe in so much just don't hold water in real life. But I suppose that's what really growing up feels like."

Brendon ran a hand through his hair, making a frustrated sound. "People work over that  _together_ , Ryan!" he said. "If you had told me, I would have changed anything to make myself better, but how am I supposed to know if you just tell me to get out, and then we don't talk for years? I have been working on the fact that I expect to be given everything. Hell, I started a charity so that I could learn to get by on my own, but also to do something for myself and something that explicitly benefits others. It wasn't something that my father would have wanted, but something that I wanted," he said quietly, shaking his head. "I was angry, still, and I know I shouldn't have tried to have a relationship with you when I was still so angry, but I loved you, and I was stupid, and I had just lost everything, and so had you, and you understood. Or I-- I thought I loved you. I still think I did. It was confusing, though, because I thought I'd known you and suddenly you were nearly a stranger to me," he shrugged and sighed, looking up finally. "I would have changed myself completely to be good enough for you," he said, smiling bitterly. "And when you told me to leave, I did, because that was what you wanted. Don't you think I would have fought tooth and nail just about the fact that you were ordering me around?" he let his gaze drop and sighed again. He chuckled a bit, though it wasn't a happy sound. "I can't stay here. I'll go crazy."  


"How could I ask you to change these minor things around you," Ryan stated. "When I wasn't even the person you fell in love with in the first place? I mean, sure, I have some minor things in common with Ryan Hastings, but I would never change to become him, it wasn't fair to either of us. And so I thought that if I asked you to change these things you'd ask  _me_  to become someone I had no wish to be." Ryan sighed slowly, pulling his feet up on the chair with him and resting his chin on his knees. "And back then I thought I'd be able to take anything so long as in the end I'd still get to see you in a good mood again. And honestly?" He closed his eyes for a moment, swallowing a lump in his throat. He wasn't even sure why it was that he suddenly wanted to cry, but he didn't like the feeling and pushed it down as far as he could. "Honestly I was carrying around so much guilt that I really believed I deserved everything you saw fit to throw at me." He breathed in deeply, calmingly, again. "I'm not trying to say it was your fault. We just weren't particularly great for each other. And stay," he added. "No matter how painful this might be, I think we both need it to move forward. And don't ever think you weren't good enough for me. We just weren't particularly good  _together_."  


Brendon wanted to argue and say that they  _had_  been good together during school, even if Ryan had started dating him for all the wrong reasons. He'd been happy, He had fallen in love with Ryan, and even after everything, even when Ryan had lied to him and hurt him and told him to go away, he had loved him. How could that ever be wrong? He wouldn't argue, though, because he remembered what Ryan had said about being spoiled, and Brendon knew he was, and he didn't want Ryan to think that him arguing was just another way to get what he wanted, or to be right all the time. He looked up, pressing his lips in a thin line and choking back a sob, hoping the look in his eyes said his part. He was glad, in a way, that he'd gotten closure. For years after he'd left Ryan, he had kept thinking that he would go back, that Ryan would want him again, and even if he hadn't been thinking about Ryan daily anymore, he had still hoped, deep down. He slumped forward a bit and covered his face with his hands, though, unable to help himself. The knot in his chest was just growing tighter and tighter, making it uncomfortable to breathe, and the tears that threatened were determined to make their way out, it seemed.

Ryan felt something in his chest crumble at the sight of Brendon all but breaking down in front of him. His legs had carried him out of the chair without conscious command from his brain, and he found himself crossing the floor until he was crouched in front of the younger man, arms raising of their own accord to wrap around Brendon's body. "I'm sorry," he whispered, and it really did feel like a deep, physical pain in his chest, and the remembered look in Brendon's eyes almost had him bawling his own eyes out as well. He was searching himself deep for something, anything, to say that might make the other man hurt less, might take that look off his face. He'd long-since admitted that one part of him would always love Brendon, even if he wasn't  _in_  love with him anymore. And that part most definitely seemed to have taken charge at the moment. "Brendon," he whispered after several long moments of silence. "Please, do us both a favor and stay for the rest of the time you planned to spend here. I think we both really need to get some closure." He gave a humourless laugh, fingers idly drawing circles on Brendon's back. "You need to get to know who I  _really_  am. Get rid of those illusions that painted me stronger and braver and nicer than I really am, okay? And find out who I've become. Maybe your feelings will go away, maybe they won't." He gave another slight snort. "If you'll remember, last time you made me fall in love with you quite effortlessly. I won't say I'm not scared of it, but chances are that it could happen again. I can't promise you either way." He paused a little, holding back a wince. Emotional bribery wasn't really a nice thing, but something in him rebelled nearly violently at the thought of Brendon leaving again so soon. "All you have to promise is that if you realize I'm not the person you thought and it turns out you really don't like me at all, you tell me before I get in too deep."

Brendon let himself hold onto Ryan for dear life, taking several deep breaths to hold back his tears. He listened to Ryan talk, gradually calming down, and smiled when he was done. Nodding, Brendon held Ryan tightly before letting go and leaning back a bit. "Okay," he agreed, smiling shyly, now, and slightly embarrassed by the way he had acted. He took a deep breath before looking up at Ryan, wanting to kiss him but restraining himself for the moment. They should probably be getting back soon, or someone was bound to come see if they had killed each other. Suddenly, a thought came to him. "Are you sleeping with Jaken?" he asked, half afraid that the answer might be yes. He knew he was in love with Ryan, no matter who he claimed to be now, and that nothing could change that. And so, the thought of him with another man just made his stomach clench painfully.

Ryan had to force himself not to cringe at the question. He could imagine all too well how nice the thought of that might be for Brendon to bear. "We slept in the same bed last night," he finally stated with an awkward shrug. "No funny business, though, you know." Then he shook his head a bit and sucked in a deep breath. "Jaken and I were together for nearly eight months," he informed, deciding to start from the beginning. "When we broke it off it wasn't something with big drama and tears and heartbreak. We just didn't really feel that way about each other. So, we stayed friends instead, started seeing other people, the whole shebang. But there's an incredible amount of comfort in knowing each other so well, knowing each other's bodies so well, so I guess we've just kept coming back to each other when we needed something we knew would work. Hasn't been exclusive for around two and a half years now, though. It's just... something to keep the spirits up while we wait to find the right people to fall in love with, I suppose." He bit his lip slightly before looking up and meeting Brendon's eyes directly. "I've never had sex with him while I was in another relationship," he stated honestly. "But I need you to tell me right now that if somehow we do work everything out and start another relationship, you'll be able to accept Jaken in my life. More than a fuck, he's the best friend I've ever had, and quite honestly, at the moment you'd be best off not making me choose between you, okay? Sorry to be rough, but there are just a few ground rules that need to be laid out first."  


Brendon bit his lip and nodded after a second. He knew that Ryan deserved a best friend, someone who had been there for him these past years. He was hoping, though, that he would become Ryan's best friend, with time, because if they did try the relationship thing again, he was planning on being there for Ryan whenever he needed him, no matter what. He smiled a bit and got up, motioning towards the door. "We should go back in," he said, making it sound like a question. If Ryan still had more to say, he was more than willing to listen. On an impulse, he gripped Ryan's hand, closing his eyes as he remembered the last time they had held hands, and that it had been so long ago seemed surreal. He exhaled shakily, and smiled a bit more. He just knew things would work out. 

Ryan gave Brendon's hand a small squeeze, but then let it go. He knew that simple action probably hurt the younger man a lot more than it was really worth, but he needed to make it clear that they weren't in a relationship yet, and that Ryan was dead-set against starting anything before they had both figured out all those things they were talking about. "You should probably go sprinkle some cold water in your face or something first," Ryan suggested, placing a hand on Brendon's shoulder. "I don't think you want Isaac to see you with red eyes and splotchy skin, or he may become upset too."

Brendon reluctantly stood and put some distance between them, nodding in agreement to Ryan's suggestion. He smiled a bit before hurrying away, heading upstairs to his room and the adjacent washroom. He washed his face thoroughly before heading back out. Isaac had obviously finished eating because he was running around, looking carefree and happy, a big grin on his face. This, in turn, made Brendon grin and he ran after his son, telling him that he was going to catch him, and when Isaac giggled loudly, he swooped down and picked him up, spinning him around. "Did you eat enough?" he asked quietly, and felt Isaac nod against his neck. "Are you okay? Do you forgive me for leaving you in Keely's room without properly telling you?" he asked, his voice even more quiet. Isaac's lips moved against his neck, sloppy and wet, and Brendon drew back, chuckling. "I'm taking that as a yes," he informed with a wink. "So, what are we doing today?" he asked, directing the question at everyone, but keeping his eyes on Isaac.

After stopping by his study to check his calendar, Ryan moved back down to finish his abandoned breakfast. Jaken looked up to meet his gaze, an eyebrow cocked in question, and Ryan shrugged slightly, biting his lip, and his friend's expression changed to one that might as clearly have been words asking if he was crazy. The older of them shrugged again, taking a bite of his food. Another look asked him if he knew what he was doing and once again he could only answer with a shrug. Jaken sighed and reached over to give Ryan's shoulder, less bony than it had been in his youth, and brief, firm squeeze. "I think it'll probably be easier for everyone if I move into a guest room, huh?" he whispered. And Ryan was about to protest, but let it go with a sigh. It probably was for the best idea even though he selfishly wished to have someone hug and hold him and practically carrying him through as he put himself in the middle of all this again.

Ryan glanced up at Brendon's question. "I have a band coming in tomorrow," he stated. "Nothing today, though. I suggest taking the jeep into the mountains so you guys can see it and Jake can get some shots. It's going to be a squeeze, but I think we can make it." He took another bite and chewed it quickly. So what if he had two cars. The one he normally used wasn't very good for the smaller roads up in the mountains what with how rocky and steep they could often be. He'd at least bought the jeep used, with the house, for around five thousand euros, which wasn't really a lot considering the fact that it had been barely a year old and in perfect condition. "Tonight you have one of those things and Jaken will probably set up a dark room for the photos or something. I assume you're taking Spencer with you and Jon is staying here, in which case he can entertain the kids while I get some writing done and maybe start working on a demo. So, full program, if anyone's up for it."

"Also," Jaken added with what looked like a completely warm, friendly smile. "I just wanted to let you know, Beauregard... If you hur' him again, I'm going to fu'hin kill you," he finished, still with a jovial smile on his face even as his dialect grew thicker and thicker with every word. "Former prince or no."

Brendon's eyes, which had been happy at the thought of showing Isaak the mountains, letting his son see Spain now that he was here, grew cold when Jaken spoke. He struggled for a few seconds, seeming to have an internal battle with himself, before forcing his shoulders to relax and smiling sweetly, though a bit sarcastically. "Of course," he said, sounding for all the world that he agreed completely with Jaken. Though, on the inside, he was cursing the man and demanding that he mind his own business, but he really didn't think it would be the right thing to do just now. Or ever, really. Sighing, he turned to look at Isaac again and smiled widely. "We're going to go for a ride!" he said excitedly, and Isaac's eyes lit up. He loved being in cars, which surprised Brendon. Never had his baby been fussy when being forced to stay put for long periods of time. "And then, tonight, Isaac is going to play with uncle Jon and maybe try to win Keely back, yes? I think you worried her a bit with your crying this morning," he said, his tone the tiniest bit reproachful, even as he tickled Isaac's tummy with his fingers. Isaac turned to look at Keely, and smiled shyly at her.

Ryan sent Jaken a glare although, quite honestly, he was still grateful to have a friend he knew would look out for him. And though he didn't really want anyone dying over him, well... one had to appreciate the sentiment. "Someone's going to have to go wake up Jon and Spencer then," he stated, and Lucía, who'd just been finishing her last churro, jumped up with a broad grin, shouting 'me, me, me!' as she raced towards the door and inside, presumably to take up the appointed task. "If she finds cold water we're going to be hanging around with quite some grumpy people today, aren't we?"  


Brendon cleared his throat uncomfortably and shifted Isaac to sit on his hip. He'd seen Jenn do it many times, and had always thought that it was an effeminate position, but since Isaac had been born, he'd found himself holding the little boy on his hip multiple times. It was just easier. "I'm sure they'll be fine," he said. "It's their fault for not waking up to have breakfast with us," he winked at Isaac and smiled. He was startled, suddenly, when he heard a familiar ringing start, and was only confused for a few seconds before realizing it was his cellphone. He quickly took the phone out of his pocket, where he'd hurriedly stuffed it earlier, and flipped it open before putting it to his ear. "Hello," he said, voice professionally emotionless. And then he cracked a pained grin and turned away slightly. "I was supposed to call you," he said, sounding sufficiently sorry. "There was just a lot going on, hon. You will never believe what Jon got us into-- well, no, I can't really talk right now, but-- Isaac is fine. I think he likes it here, and he talks about you all the time," he chuckled, "I mean, how could he not? You're the one who taught him that damned French-- alright, yes, he's right here, actually, I'm holding him. No, darling, I'm not-- fine!" Brendon looked pained as he transferred the phone from his ear to Isaac's. He was sure everybody could hear the loud cooing on the other line, but Isaac was smiling and babbling happily in French, so he supposed it was alright. After only a few minutes, he took the phone back and ended the call in a hushed voice, promising to keep Jenn updated from now on and to never again forget to call. Putting the phone back into his pocket, Brendon turned back and shrugged uneasily and chuckled, though it was far from a happy sound. "Women," he said, as though that explained everything.

"Yeah well," Ryan found himself muttering. "At least some of them do have the fabled maternal instinct. It gets a little awkward when your daughter comes up after her first day in school and asks what a 'Mommy' is." He sighed and shook his head slightly, biting into a mixto and washing it down with a mouthful of orange juice. Moments later, though, he found himself smiling wistfully at the memories. "The next day she'd made friends with the boy everyone thought was weird because he had two mummies and no dad, because then she could always borrow one if she had to." He got up from the chair, stretching enough to feel his back pop a little. "I need to change into some other clothes before we leave," he stated. "Jake, you'll keep an eye on Luce when she gets back down, right?" On his friend's nod, he quickly set off back in the direction of the stairs and his own bedroom.  


"She's not his mother," Brendon muttered, though Ryan had already left. He looked up at Jaken and let Isaac down, "Well, she is. But," he sighed and watched Isaac wander off a bit. "He doesn't know she's his mother," he grimaced and shook his head. "She was just supposed to have him, and then she would be out of our life, but I kind of fell in love with her. I mean, it's hard not to, she gave birth to my son and all, but..." he frowned and looked back at Jaken. "Anyway, he doesn't have a mother, not really. She's there for him, but she's his Godmother, nothing more. We don't even live together anymore," he chuckled. "I don't know why I'm telling you this, but I just thought it should be out there. I don't want anyone making him feel like he's missing something in his life."

Jaken just raised an amused eyebrow at the rant before getting up off his chair. "I'm going to go check over my equipment," he stated. Then he sighed and shook his head. "Be careful," he advised. "He isn't as strong and well-adjusted as he likes to seem. And you should change your clothes. It's dusty up there and what you're wearing looks too expensive to take that kind of dirtying."  


Brendon sighed and looked down at himself, shrugging. "Isaac," he called, motioning for his son to follow him. Instead of tottering behind him, though, Isaac zoomed by and hurried into the house, shrieking and giggling the whole time. Brendon chuckled and followed him at a faster pace, making sure he didn't fall on the stairs and then leading him into the bedroom. "Can you get your shorts out?" he asked Isaac once they were in the bedroom. The little boy immediately started rummaging through his things for his favourite red shorts. Brendon took out a pair of well-worn, form fitting jeans for himself and after rummaging for far too long, settled on a white wife-beater that he'd rarely ever worn. It looked like it was going to be a scorching day, and that would be his excuse for wearing such a thing. Isaac had already rid himself of his clothes when Brendon turned around and he chuckled again as he watched his son struggle to pull the shorts up. Brendon got him a white t-shirt to put on as well, and then set about dressing himself. Once they were both ready, he took Isaac in his arms and stepped out into the hallway, grinning at still-sleepy looking Spencer, who flipped him the finger. Brendon gasped dramatically, covering Isaac's eyes and tsked at his friend. He hummed as they descended the stairs and waited in the front entrance for everyone else, Spencer too tired to speak and Brendon busy singing one of Isaac's favourite songs.

***

"Don't be too hard on him," Ryan instructed with a sigh, changing out of his slacks and into a plain pair of bermudas. "What happened back then was understandable and he doesn't deserve more grief than he's already had."

Jaken snorted behind him, still fiddling with his equipment. "If he's serious about this, it should at least give him enough guts to be able to deal with your overprotective best friend," he stated dryly. "And it's more of a warning, really. If he hurts you I really am going to hurt him right back. I've seen you crying over him too much as it is."

Ryan blushed slightly at the mention. For some reason it embarrassed him to have been a wreck for so long after things had gone to hell, and he hated talking about it to be honest. Things were better now, he'd moved on from the state he'd spent years in and he wished people would stop bringing it up and insisting on babying him over it. Everyone seemed to have a strange tendency to forget he was actually the eldest. "It wasn't just him," he muttered. "It was a combination of so many different things. I think if I hadn't ditched that back-stabber of a shrink it would probably have been labeled post-traumatic stress syndrome or something to that effect. Seems likely anyway." He rolled his eyes and pulled his t-shirt over his head before rummaging through his closet until he found a well-worn, comfortably loose light blue shirt. Buttons and short sleeves. It was old enough that the hems were slightly frayed, but he felt good in it, and it was worn enough to be thin and cool in the heat.

"Yeah, well, he contributed when he could've helped," was the reply, and then he heard the tell-tale sound of the camera bag being slammed shut. "It's your call, though. You're an adult. But you aren't stopping me from having your back." 

Shaking his head in half frustrated amusement, Ryan left the room and walked into Lucía's, hoping to find her at least partially ready. And she was, grinning and bouncing on the balls of her feet, a light, loose, pink dress held onto her thin shoulders with broad straps seeming to be her garment of choice. It would fit the temperature he expected from the day. "Ready, sweetheart?" he asked. She nodded with a big grin and held out her arms. Ryan rolled his eyes. "You really are getting too old for that, you know," he stated, but picked her up none-the-less, not nearly as easily or comfortably as a year or two ago, but she still wasn't heavy enough to make him break a sweat. Just too tall, more like. He pecked her cheek with a smile and carried her out of the room and down the stairs to meet the others, Jaken joining them along the way. 

Jon was the last to join them, bounding down the steps and making faces for Lucía and Isaac's amusement. Isaac was the only one who seemed to find it very amusing, though, because he broke out in giggles and Lucía only smiled at him, as if to appease him. He chuckled to himself and shook his head. He'd have to find better ways to amuse her, she was getting too old. He winked at her before turning to Spencer and putting his arm around his friend's shoulders. Spencer shrugged him off, though, looking momentarily annoyed before plastering a smile on his face and taking Isaac from Brendon. "Are you trying to get me to leave you alone?" Jon pouted, pointing at Isaac. "And you're using a poor, defenceless, little boy to help you?" he shook his head and tutted, making Spencer roll his eyes, but a smile was playing on his lips.

Brendon looked at them, confused for a moment over their antics, and then shrugged. "Right, well. We off?" he asked, deciding that, whatever was going on between the two, he  _did not_ want to know.

"Yeah," Ryan agreed, putting Lucía firmly back down on her own two, perfectly functional, legs. He went to the small table and picked up the right set of car keys before leading the way outside and towards the garage. Señora Sanchez caught up with them just outside it, pushing a basket - presumably their lunch, Ryan mused gratefully; he'd forgotten about that entirely - into his arms before gushing over the kids in Spanish for a few moments and then heading back inside. Ryan handed the basket on to Jon before opening the garage and pushing the key, hearing the unmistakable click as the jeep unlocked. Then he walked the rest of the way and got into the driver's seat, deciding to let Lucía's two uncles fight over which one of them got to have her on his lap during the ride.

Brendon stood outside the jeep, not sure where he was supposed to sit, but choosing to wait until everyone else had found some place so that he could get in. He took Isaac from Spencer, who glared at him a bit, but Brendon just smiled sweetly. He didn't need to explain that he wanted Isaac sitting with him, because Spencer had already complained, multiple times, that he was too over-protective. Brendon shrugged and stood to the side, waiting.

Jon, meanwhile, was ruffling Lucía's hair-- she hated that-- and smiling widely. "Why don't you sit with Jaken and..." he paused, tapping his lips with his index finger and humming thoughtfully, before smirking. "Spencer can sit on my lap!" he exclaimed, seeming very pleased with himself, until Spencer cried out his "I will not!" and glared. Jon rolled his eyes and huffed. He leaned down a bit, smiling at Lucía and said, "yes he will," softly, before winking again and setting off to convince Spencer that there wouldn't be enough room unless he sat on his lap. Brendon grinned at the two, chuckling softly when Spencer relented, still pouting, but followed Jon to the jeep and sat on his lap in the backseat. Really, they were worse than teenagers. And then there was only Jaken who had to sit before he could, and he looked at the other man expectantly for a second before averting his gaze. He was really kind of scary, and Brendon didn't want to piss him off.

Jaken, without second thought, headed to the table in the garage where a kiddie seat had been put, slightly haphazardly, last time they'd needed it, and headed back to attach it to the front passenger seat, winking at Lucía. "Looks like you get to be a big girl and ride up front with your daddy today," he stated, smiling at the squeal she let out as she practically propelled herself into it before letting him strap her in. Then Jaken himself, still chuckling slightly, put his gear in the trunk of the car before sliding into the backseat and strapping himself in, put his hand in the pocket and handed an item up front to Ryan. "Forgot those, mate," he stated. Ryan chuckled gratefully and slid the sunglasses on.

Brendon carefully slid into the back seat, as well, Isaac clutched to his chest and looking on in interest. Brendon grimaced at the slightly tight fit, and struggled to buckling himself up one handed. Once he'd managed that, he sat Isaac in his lap, facing the front, and looked over at Spencer, who had his arms crossed and was glaring at nothing in particular. Jon, on the other hand, looked proud of himself for making Spencer so angry-- or at least getting him to sit in his lap. Rolling his eyes, Brendon looked back towards the front and held Isaac a bit tighter. Really, he'd never been so scared to bring his son in a car. He dismissed it as being in a new country and in a car he wasn't familiar with, hoping the anxiousness would fade.

Ryan backed out of the garage and turned the car smoothly so they were facing frontwards as they headed out of the property. He liked driving, always had since he'd gotten his licence... nearly fifteen years ago. Damn, had it been that long? And again he was hit with the realization of just how old he was getting. He drove the familiar way up into the mountains, mostly keeping his eyes on the road and his ears on the conversations around him, chancing a glance at the view every once in a while. It was when he suddenly glanced into the rear view mirror and saw three familiar faces that he realized he hadn't been in a car with all three of them - three new additions aside - since... And his breath hitched, his heart rate all but doubled and he could feel his hands begin to tremble on the wheel. Without second through he drove off the road and turned off the engine, stumbling out of the car and a few yards away before he allowed himself to lean over and retch, phantom pains wrenching his shoulder where there was only a faint scar left these days. Well, apparently PTSD was a bitch that was still rearing its ugly head.

Brendon was out of the car like a shot, somehow having unbuckled himself rather quickly. Isaac bouncing on his hip and making little happy, oblivious, sounds, he hurried towards Ryan and bit his lip at the sight. Hesitantly, he reached out and put a hand on Ryan's back, slowly rubbing small circled and hoping it would help. "Hey," he said quietly, to cover Isaac's shriek of ' _malade!_ ' He took a step closer and sighed quietly. "You okay?" he asked, sparing a glance back at the jeep. Jon and Spencer were both out, looking worried, but kept their distance.

Catching himself before he unthinkingly uttered an affirmative, Ryan took a deep breath that didn't feel like it was reaching nearly deep enough, and shook his head. He was starting to sweat a little, and he rarely ever sweated. "When was the last time you, me, Jon and Spencer were all in a car together?" he whispered, and he felt breathless by the time he was done speaking, gasping in heaving breaths. At least he knew Jaken was distracting Lucía from the sight of him like this. That was the only explanation to why his friend hadn't reached him already. Ryan swiped his arm over his face, closing his eyes for a moment and doing his best to calm his breathing. When he had that down the trembling would probably follow and the rest were things he could deal with, even though the remembered agony still burned through his shoulder, and he could almost feel the bullet lodged in his joint again even though the most he had felt for years was a slight, barely-there ache when the weather was cold and moist.  


Brendon's hand, still on Ryan's back, dug into the shirt for a moment before he pulled it back as if burned. He shook his head and stumbled back a bit before putting his hand over his eyes and taking a deep breath. "I'm sorry," he said, letting his hand fall away from his face. He took a deep breath and put Isaac down, and his son immediately attached himself to one of Ryan's legs. Brendon, too, came closer, and walked around Ryan so that they would be face to face. Brushing hair back from Ryan's face, he leaned forward a little, and spoke. "Look, you don't have to... this isn't something I want anyone remembering right now, you know? It's just horrible and it's in the past, and... are you really having such bad flashbacks because Jon, Spencer and I are here? Because we could leave. I don't want you to suffer," he said quietly, shaking his head. "Not after all these years." He hated that the fact Ryan was remembering was partly his fault. How would they ever be able to be around each other every day if things like that kept happening?   


Ryan felt himself automatically leaning into the touch. His body felt weak enough that leaning against Brendon for support sounded more than a little tempting, but the warmth of Isaac's little body curled around his leg grounded him enough that he at least had the strength not to. "It's not you," he finally whispered, finally having gotten his breathing mostly under control. "I've been having attacks ever since. Less and less sporadically over the years, but it still tends to happen once every few months." He tried to form a smile but suspected it came out rather more as a grimace. "I've had worse than this from hearing a gun shot on TV when they were showing a fucking swimming competition, so the triggers are really rather unpredictable. I don't think you're really making it worse." A wry expression settled over his features. "And it's my own fault, really. I could just get meds for it, but I don't like the thought of being drugged up all the time." He heaved in a deep breath. "Statistically at least one in every five war veterans get some kind of psychological problems. It would've been strange if none of us had any." He subconsciously raised his right hand to rub at his left shoulder, grimacing slightly. He knew the pain wasn't real but that didn't make it go away. "Don't worry too much about it," he finally concluded, sucking in another deep breath as he felt the trembling begin to abate. "It's probably best if someone else takes the wheel for a bit, though."  


Brendon nodded absently, though he was still worried, and nothing Ryan could say right now would make that go away. He stepped closer, consciously avoiding Isaac's small feet, and cupped Ryan's face in his hands. "Is there something I can do?" he asked quietly, and hoped Ryan wouldn't try to be coy and think that he was talking about taking the wheel. He wanted to tell him that he would do anything, that he'd help Ryan through this, that they would go at it together. But he didn't know if that was possible, yet. He could be leaving Ryan in less than a week and a half, possibly forever. The thought made him stiffen and he looked away for a moment, over Ryan's head and at the jeep and the people around it. Spencer and Jon were talking, it seemed, in hurried whispers, though still keeping an eye on them. Jaken looked like he wanted very much to march over here, but Brendon was thankful that he simply kept talking to Keely, probably explaining what happened, or at least making something up. He looked back at Ryan and smiled softly, though he felt far from happy. He just wanted to show his support, without the clichéd words and professing his undying love-- or help, as the case may be.

"Maybe just..." Ryan started, but he didn't know what to say after that. He was a writer, he made his living on writing, whether it were songs or novels, and he had no clue what to say right at that moment. Finally he gave up on finishing the sentence and just took a step forward, heavy with the small boy clinging to his leg, and put his right arm around Brendon's neck, the left still hanging heavily at his side, feeling useless though he knew it wasn't. He slowly, hesitantly placed his head on the younger man's shoulder and leaned in, needing the support more than anything right at that moment even though he had been so adamant they not get physically close before both of them had had their feelings resolved. "Maybe talk about it sometime," he added after several long moments. "I don't really want to, but I think I have to at some point. Talk about it with someone who was  _there_ , you know?"  


Brendon felt all the breath whoosh out of him as he melted into the half-hug and wrapped his arm around Ryan, careful not to squeeze tightly. He ignored Isaac's cries of ' _moi je veux une caresse!_ ' and closed his eyes, leaning his cheek on Ryan's head. "Yeah," he said, his voice slightly shaky. "Anything, anything," he mumbled quietly, gritting his teeth when Isaac wriggled his way between them and started pulling at his jeans. Sighing, Brendon stepped back and chuckled, sending Ryan an apologetic look before lifting Isaac into his arms and looking at him sternly. " _Arrète_ ," he said firmly, lifting one eyebrow as the little boy kicked his legs repeatedly before finally stopping and having the good grace to look abashed. Brendon let his gaze slide back to Ryan and smiled lopsidedly. "Jaken or Jon can drive, yeah? And maybe, if I'm not too exhausted after that conference tonight, we can have a chat? If you want, Jon and Spencer could join us...?"

"It's okay," Ryan muttered, although he already missed the warmth and the support and had to berate himself for that fact. He managed to look down at Brendon's son with a smile. "Quieres un embrazo, huh, Isaacito?" he asked. He would usually have laughed, but couldn't muster up the energy. At least he was all right enough again to tease the boy. He turned his gaze back to Brendon. "I think I'd probably prefer a one-on-one," he stated softly. "If I were facing all three of you, it would be that much harder to speak." And he would feel just as alone in it as he had back then, but he wasn't really ready to say that. "Besides, I've been in touch with Jon all these years and we've never talked about it. I think he clams up even more than I do." He shrugged slightly, hugging his arms around himself. He was still sweating, but feeling a lot colder than the weather warranted. "We should probably get back in the car, get Jaken to drive. I don't think Jon driving would make it any better. He drove back then... And I'll probably be okay with it tomorrow, but not right now."  


After Isaac's blabbering had diminished some, Brendon gave Ryan a reproachful look that said 'don't encourage him' and then broke into a smile. "Anything you want is fine," he said, nodding. "I think I'd prefer it just being you and I, as well, so..." he trailed off and looked back towards the jeep again. Spencer was laughing and Jon had his arm around him, which Brendon still found a little odd, but not unexpected. He sighed and nodded towards the others. "Alright, well, are you sure you're still going to be able to enjoy the day? I mean, don't you want to at least brush your teeth?" he offered, then chuckled softly. "You didn't really do much," he said, looking down and scrunching his nose. "But..." he shrugged and gave another smile.

Ryan felt a light blush travel up his cheeks and creep into his ears. He knew he wasn't particularly strong but that did not mean he  _liked_  being reminded of any displays of weakness. "I have some water and gum in the car," he stated. "That will have to do." He sucked in yet another deep breath before setting off towards the car with shaky, slow steps. When he got there he reached over Lucía into the glove department, sending her a small, encouraging smile in the process. "Just got carsick, lovely," he reassured as he pulled the aforementioned items out, rinsing out his mouth with water and spitting it out before taking a few deep swallows and popping the minty gum into his mouth. "Trade you," he said, looking at Jaken who nodded without asking for an explanation or anything. He'd have figured out what happened anyway and Ryan was grateful there was no further interrogation. His friend got out of the backseat and climbed into the driver's instead and Ryan took his spot on the backseat, doing his best to flash carefree smiles at Jon and Spencer as he buckled himself in.


	20. Chapter 20

The conference had been... long and boring. By the time Brendon was being driven back to Ryan's, he was exhausted and it was nearing midnight. The only good thing about the whole night had been the many people promoting and supporting  _his_  charity, and his alone. He was sure that it had gone well, but it had taken entirely too long. Sighing, Brendon paid the cab driver his fare before opening the door and stepping out of the car. He walked up the drive to the front door and turned the doorknob, only to see that someone must have locked it when they'd retired for bed. Biting his lip, Brendon let his forehead rest against the cool door as he knocked softly enough that it wouldn't wake the whole house, but loud enough to hopefully be heard. Being left outside was not what he needed right now, and he found himself wishing that he'd had the intelligence to have asked for a key, or at least for the door to remain unlocked. He knocked again.

Ryan was up on the roof, his laptop with him, typing away on the ninth chapter of his next novel, when he heard the knocks and belatedly remembered that Señorita Sanchez always locked the door behind her before she left and he'd forgotten to tell her not to. He quickly saved the document and put the computer on standby before walking to the edge of the roof, leaning over the waist-high railing. "I'll be there in a minute," he called down, keeping his voice hushed. He pulled his hoodie a bit tighter around himself and went back to the stairs, leaving his laptop and glass as well as the pitcher of wine where it was. He'd bring it back inside later, or maybe bring Brendon up here with him if they were talking tonight. He went down, through his room and down the hall before he ascended the second set of stairs and reached the front hall where he quickly came to the door, unlocked it and opened it with a smile. "Welcome back."

Brendon smiled wryly. "Finally," he muttered, shaking his head and pushing his way inside. He smiled brightly at Ryan, though he knew he must look as tired as he felt. And if he didn't, it would be a miracle. He was wearing one of his best suits, pitch black with a dark red dress shirt underneath and a black tie. He had even styled his hair, though as he ran his hand through it, now, he knew it must be an utter mess. "That conference was entirely too long," he said, chuckling softly and making sure to keep his voice down. "How was Isaac? Where did they put him to sleep? He didn't make a fuss, did he?"

"He's in Spencer's room," Ryan answered. "Seemed perfectly fine, honestly." He gave a small smile and reached out to give Brendon's shoulder a small squeeze. "You look tired as hell," he stated. "Maybe it'd be better if I just let you get some sleep and we'll talk some other time?" He cocked an eyebrow inquisitively. "Hungry, or thirsty, or anything?" he went on, not even sure himself if he were trying to fill the threatening silence or just attempting to be a proper, polite host.

Brendon grinned, proud that his son had managed a night without him. He shook his head. "No, no, I'm good. Tonight is good. Though, I am famished," he informed, nodding to himself before frowning a bit. "All they served us were those damned finger foods that people always devour because they're never enough to fill you up," he chuckled again and shrugged. "Kitchen?" he asked, knowing that if he and Ryan didn't at least talk a little bit tonight, they would convince themselves to put it off until it was possibly too late. And he didn't want that. He wanted to talk, and he wanted to do it now. Couldn't wait. Wouldn't.

"Let's get some food in the kitchen and then go onto the roof," Ryan suggested. "It's lovely up there." He didn't say that the roof of this house was probably the one place in the whole world where he felt the most comfortable and that if he were to speak about all these things, then he need a place like that to be able to handle it. He headed for the kitchen where he knew there was still a good bit of the dinner and dessert left in the fridge. He found it quickly and stacked up a plate of the Cassola del Tros, handing it and an empty wine glass to Brendon before dishing up two plates of Crema Catalana, which he kept in his own hands as he led the way up the stairs and through the hall and his bedroom, now absent of Jaken's belongings, and back up the stairs to the roof. "Probably my favourite place in the world," he stated as he sat back into his chair, looking out at the moon-bathed view, huddled slightly into his hoodie again. The nights really were cold.

Brendon sat down, as well, the cold reminding him that suits really weren't the best in any kind of weather. He smiled softly and nodded. "It's nice," he said, his voice no higher than a whisper. He wondered for a moment if he should go change into some warmer clothes, but decided that it wasn't worth it. Staying here was. Sighing, Brendon dug into the food, once again reminded by how hungry he was, and how delicious everything out here was. "You're having flashbacks or-- whatever, of being shot," he stated, though made it sound like a question. He'd already eaten half his plate and figured it was time to say  _something_.

"Not always of that," Ryan stated softly, keeping his eyes on the view before scooping up a spoonful of the dessert and carefully chewing the caramel crust. "Sometimes it's just regular panic attacks." He chuckled wryly. "I couldn't afford to panic back then but it seems I can now. And it's just... fear that's powerful enough that it feels like it could kill me if I don't just run as far and as fast as I possibly can. Or it's guilt. That hand grenade, remember? Did you know it killed three guys and mutilated two others? And the ones I shot. Sometimes it's harder than all hell to live with the fact that I'm a... killer." His voice grew so soft it was barely audible on the last tones. And it really was something he had never forgiven himself for and probably never would. He had never wanted to cause anyone's death, but when the choice had come down to two friends and the boy he'd believed was the love of his life versus a bunch of anonymous uniforms it had been so fucking easy. "In the beginning that was mostly what it was, but after your visit, and years following... well, some of it was regular heartbreak, I suppose. Everyone has felt that, right?" Another small burst of laughter that was anything but happy made its way through. "But I'd also have flashbacks to you not responding when I... poured everything out, basically, or responding in anger, and that would give me panic attacks again, because although I'd already lost you, the feeling of you slipping away contained in those were nearly as frightening as the war itself." He exhaled, and while he was suddenly afraid of just those reactions again, unresponsiveness or a bad reaction, again, it also somehow felt like a weight lifting off his shoulder. "It was true, what I said to you. I  _had_  to get over you or I'd have destroyed myself."

Brendon sighed and shook his head. "Survivor's Guilt," he said softly, turning to look at Ryan. He leaned back in the chair and shut his eyes after a few moments, not entirely sure that he had heard right. "You know, I felt horrible when I thought that I had left my parents to die. I was free, wouldn't be caught in a country being torn by war, and they were being attacked, directly. I thought I was a horrible human being, for the longest time I was so angry with myself, especially during the time that I had no idea if my mother had survived," he said, his voice pained as the memories came back, suddenly, and he almost felt exactly like he had all those years ago, thinking that his mother had died. "But then I thought, if I had stubbornly stayed behind, and tried to get to my parents, you might have been killed. Spencer might have been killed. Jon might have been killed. By doing what you told me to do, or not to do, I made sure that three more people were safe. And you did the same," he shrugged and caught his breath, opening his to look at Ryan. "They would have killed us for the sake of their country, but you saved us for the sake of-- of love, I'd like to think. You have to move on; stop thinking of it as  _killing_  and start thinking of it as  _saving_ ," he smiled a little, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "And I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry that I caused you so much pain, and uncertainty and-- and everything. I didn't want to," he said, his voice pleading for Ryan to believe him.  


"I know you didn't," Ryan muttered, finishing the dessert and grabbing his glass again, standing from the chair and walking to the edge of the roof that faced down to the creek, leaning against the railing. "It was too soon for us, after everything. That Christmas was a mistake, but what's done is done. I believe that if you had the chance to do it over now, you'd do it a lot differently, even though you'd probably still have trouble empathizing with other's problems if you were angry enough." He glanced over his shoulder, flashing a small, teasing smile to take the sting out of the words. The mood had needed a bit of lightening, and he hoped that's what he'd provided. Kind of. "And I guess the problem with 'killing' and 'saving' is that while it was happening I thought of it as saving, but I had to go and second-guess myself." Another wry expression on his face although Brendon had no chance of seeing it from where he was sitting. "I can't do much except work through it as it comes and hope it keeps getting better." He was silent for a long while, listening to the faint rhythm of the waves hitting the coast, the sound soothing and familiar to his ears. "I'm not sure how much you know about my life after you left," he stated, voice going soft again. He took another sip of the wine, swirling it around his mouth before swallowing. He wasn't sure he wanted to speak about this, especially to Brendon, but he also kind of thought he probably had to. Knowing about Ryan's failures should help the younger man make up his mind. "I slept around a lot." He kept his eyes fixed on the silver-painted ocean and knew that he wouldn't be able to meet Brendon's eyes at the moment if he tried. He was too ashamed suddenly. "And although I guess that's how it's become over the years, in the beginning it wasn't because of a sudden death of ideals. It was just loneliness that got stronger, really. I'd been alone most of my life, but I'd suddenly been given a glimpse, however false  _I_ was in it, of how things  _could_  be, and after everything that had happened I couldn't stand it anymore, and I didn't know any other way. So, really, if you're picturing me as anything close to perfect you need to think again." He took a deep breath. "I guess how alone I felt while we were running and then while you visited didn't help at all. It was like... I was never alone, but no one was really  _with_  me, if that even makes sense. Jon, when he came to help out with Lucía, helped with that a bit, and Lucía, when she was old enough to really be seen as a person. But you need to understand that the reason Jaken means so much to me is that although I don't love him as more than a friend and never really did, he was the first person after my mother to really make me feel like I wasn't alone." It was probably quite a ramble, but it was something he'd had to say, and again he felt the lighter for it. He just hoped it made sense to Brendon as much as it had to Ryan himself.

At the end of the speech, Brendon got up and stood next to Ryan, making sure not to touch him. He would let Ryan make the decision on whether they should touch right now. He sighed softly and leaned on the railing, as well, staring down into the darkness. "I understand," he finally said, though it hurt him to say so because it hurt him to think of Ryan with other people. And to have Jaken shoved right back into his face didn't feel very good, either. He shrugged awkwardly, with another sigh, and looked over at Ryan. "We're pretty good at being polar opposites," he said, chuckling and shaking his head. "I don't know if this will help, but I am sorry about how I acted, and if I could go back, I  _would_  do everything differently. And I never, ever thought of you as a killer," he said quietly. "More like... one of the best things that ever happened to me," he chuckled again, remembering all the times that he had tried to convince himself that Ryan had been a mistake, just a horrible part of his life that was in the past. But he'd never been able to put Ryan in the past, no matter how hard he'd tried.

Ryan fought down the urge to tell Brendon to please not say something like that, please not even  _think_  it. He wasn't worth that affection, especially bordering on adoration as it seemed to be, and the fact that Brendon couldn't see that just made him more sure that the younger man was still only seeing what he wanted to see. Specifically, the fictional Ryan Hastings who had never existed out of shams and book covers. Ryan drew in a harsh breath, determined to hold back the tears that he could suddenly feel stinging his eyes. Brendon's last statement lingered almost like a pain in his chest, a bad one, and made it hard to breathe, and he gripped the railing more tightly, trying to get a hold of himself. He knew Brendon was wrong and yet it warmed nearly as much as it hurt to hear those words, and he couldn't stop himself from leaning in as he had that afternoon, his side against the younger man's, his head on Brendon's shoulder and the weight on him that seemed too heavy again resting on someone else even if for just a short moment. "Not a lot of good can have happened in your life," he muttered, biting his lips and breathing deeply again.

Brendon brushed a shaking hand through Ryan's hair and sighed. "I bet I know what you're thinking," he whispered, turning a bit more into Ryan, but making sure not to disturb his head. "Brendon is confusing me with Ryan Hastings,  _again_ ," he chuckled bitterly and sighed. "I'm not, though. I've been around you these past two days, and you're pretty much a completely different person. Even that Christmas, you were so different... and, yet, here I am. Still in love with you. Do you get that? You changed, in the blink of an eye, and I still can't get over you. I thought I had. I convinced myself I didn't still care about you, after that Christmas. But I was lying. You were so brave, bringing us across the border. Getting  _shot_. Being put on trial, and exiled from your home... I think that I knew, even if you weren't who I thought you'd been, that after everything.. I still cared about you, because of everything you did do," he said. He wanted so badly for Ryan to believe him. "So stop thinking," he finally muttered, barely restraining himself from kissing Ryan's forehead.

Exhaling deeply, Ryan turned a bit more until he could comfortably all but bury his face in Brendon's shoulder, even if he had to crouch down a bit. Brendon had grown over the years, but still wasn't as tall as Ryan. He took a shuddering breath and felt the first tear leave his eye, only to be absorbed by Brendon's blazer, which would probably be ruined from the salt. Ryan would have to buy him a new one. Something was coiling, furling and unfurling, all too painfully, in Ryan's chest, and he didn't know what to do. Maybe, though, if Brendon could read him as easily as that, he had caught onto the actual Ryan more than Ryan had thought. "I'm sorry," he murmured, voice muffled by Brendon's shoulder. "I just never know what to think. I spent so long being jealous of a fucking  _persona_  who didn't even exist. He got so many things  _I_ wanted and I didn't know how to deal with it and sometimes it was hard even for me to keep us separate." He paused for a breath, another tear leaking out and the hand not holding his wine glass lifting to fist tightly at Brendon's blazer. If he was already crying on it he didn't imagine something like this could do more harm. "I guess I'm just... used to thinking of myself as inferior to him, especially after that Christmas."  


Brendon hugged him back tightly and did kiss the top of his head, now. He sighed, a lot of the tension slowly ebbing out of him, stiffness that he hadn't even realized had been there, just disappearing. "For one thing, you are completely real, and that makes you infinitely better. You have a daughter who adores you, who is very well brought up and would make anyone proud; another few thousand points to you. You have a... a best friend who loves you enough to stay by your side whenever you need him. Another friend who would drop anything to fly across an ocean just so that he could help you. A mother who loves you. A career, or two, that you love..." he trailed off, smiling into Ryan's hair. "I could go on, but I think you get the point," he chuckled, hoping that he  _did_  get the point, and see how amazing he was as Ryan  _Ross_. 

The fight seemed to just die out in him a moment later, and Ryan stopped the protests. He was just clinging on now, no longer trying to stop the tears from falling. People said time healed all wounds, but even when they scabbed over Ryan believed they would keep festering under the surface. You needed to cut it open and suck the venom out to really have a chance for it, and this felt like one of those cases. It hurt like nothing else right now, but he knew that tomorrow he would feel lighter than he probably had in years because one of the wounds he'd kept buried and had barely noticed for years might just start really healing now. But still, he couldn't stop another pain from blossoming too, had to clamp his lips shut to keep from speaking when he knew the words would come out ugly and accusing. But why the fuck couldn't Brendon have been like this years ago, when Ryan was still in love with him? Why couldn't he have been spared the pain of the years in between? He pushed the thought away resolutely. People didn't just need time to heal, they needed time to grow up as well. Ryan knew he had needed that, and that even when he was the age Brendon was now, he'd still been a stupid, clueless kid. He understood, even if that didn't make it hurt less, but instead of vocally uttering it - he wasn't sure he  _could_ , right then - he managed to put the glass down and wrap the previously occupied arm around Brendon's neck, pulling the younger man so close that he might as well have tried to climb inside his skin.

Brendon exhaled loudly, relieved, and didn't even care that Ryan didn't seem to want to get a word out. This was better, somehow, and he hoped that some thing would at least be resolved. Or on their way to it, anyway. He sighed again, kissing the top of Ryan's head because he didn't think he'd get a chance to kiss him anywhere else any time soon. Just because he wanted to give Ryan time, and he wanted to give himself time, and he didn't want to rush into things like they had at Christmas. A few kisses and some hand-holding didn't make everything disappear; he knew that, now. He didn't even know how Ryan  _really_  felt, only that some part of him needed the contact and that he was finally giving into it. After a few moments, Brendon stepped back and cupped Ryan's face in his hands, searching his eyes for any sign that he was, after all, okay, or any sign that he wasn't, and gave him a hopeful smile.

Ryan, for a moment, felt as though he was going to falter and fall without the support, but he managed to catch himself, giving a feeble, teary smile back before turning back around, facing the ocean view again and picking up his glass once more, emptying it before running the opposite arm over his eyes, the escaped tears catching in the fabric of the hoodie. He felt exposed, suddenly, and a little foolish to have been crying like that, to have needed the support so much when he was supposed to be a mature adult who didn't really need much at all. "Thanks," he muttered when he thought his voice was steady enough for it. He turned around slowly, keeping his gaze averted. "You've changed too," he stated after a few moments of silence. "I can still recognize you, but you've... grown up. It's good on you."  


Brendon felt himself blush, and immediately cursed himself for it. He wasn't a teenager, after all. Somehow, though, having Ryan tell him that he was grown up made him feel like a child getting a praise from their parent, and he felt himself grin after a moment. "Yeah," he said quietly. "I'd like to think so," he chuckled and shook his head, once again turned to look out over the railing. After the heartfelt words and minor excitement, though, he was starting to feel his exhaustion all over again, and he sighed softly, rubbing his eyes with one hand. "I'm dead on my feet, though," he said regretfully, looking over at Ryan and giving him an apologetic look. "D'you mind...? Unless you had something more to say, of course."

A smile finally managed to form on his face, and Ryan looked up to meet Brendon's eyes at last. "Go sleep," he instructed softly, reaching out and giving the younger man a small push in the direction of the stairs. "If we need to talk more we can do it tomorrow," he added reassuringly, walking back to his chair. "I'm just going to finish this chapter and then I'll head down to bed too." He poured himself another glass of wine, turning the laptop back on as he sent a smile over his shoulder. "Sleep well, and don't snoop through my room too much when you go through," he added with a slight wink. There was still a certain amount of pain and melancholy swirling in the pit of his stomach, but it sure as hell wasn't as bad as it had been a moment earlier.  


Brendon chuckled rather loudly and made his way to the stairs. "I would never go through your things, Mister Ross," he said importantly, and then disappeared into the house. He made his way to his own bedroom rather quickly so that he wouldn't even get the temptation to touch anything in Ryan's. He'd changed into his pajamas and brushed his teeth before he remembered to check on Isaac. Tiptoeing across the floor, Brendon opened the door to Spencer's room and peeked in, smiling widely when he saw his son, curled up against Spencer and sucking his thumb. It was a bad habit, and Brendon knew he should find ways to stop it, but Isaac only did it on occasion, so he never thought of it. Shrugging, he went back to his own bedroom and managed to fall asleep, glad that he'd finally talked to Ryan, and smiling softly.

***

It was their last day. Brendon, Jon, Spencer and Isaac had a flight, the next morning at ten am, and it was their last day. With Ryan. Brendon had woken up with an upset stomach, though he knew it wasn't because he was actually sick. He had no idea what was going on. Would he just be leaving Ryan? Would they see each other again? They'd been making such progress, and Brendon had been sure that Ryan would at the very least make plans for them to return. But he hadn't. Not yet, anyway, and it had put Brendon on edge. He had dressed Isaac in silence, even though the boy kept babbling and poking his face. Feeling completely deflated and unsure of himself, he had gone down to breakfast, surprised to see Jon and Spencer already at the table, smiling widely. Sighing, Brendon had taken a seat and served himself, knowing that a portion of his own breakfast would go to Isaac.

"How would you like to go for a walk?" Jon asked brightly, speaking to Lucía. Brendon turned his attention back to his meal, not waiting for her response.

Lucía looked up from her churro, smiling brightly and nodding so hard her hair was bobbing all over the place. She swallowed as she had been taught to do before speaking. "Can we walk on the beach?" she asked. "Pleasepleaseplease? And bring the little boy?" 

Jon looked over at Brendon, smiling, only to have Brendon shake his head. "I think I'm going to keep Isaac," he said pointedly, though not unkindly, "here with me," Brendon explained, smiling a bit though it seemed strained. He saw Spencer shake his head out of the corner of his eye, but didn't turn to him.

"Brendon--" Spencer cut himself off when Brendon did turn to look at him, and then seemed to gather his courage to speak. "Brendon, it's just a walk. I'll go with them," he offered, but Brendon stubbornly shook his head.

"I'd really rather he stayed here, with me," he said, firmly, though his voice was soft.

Ryan followed the conversation silently, the increasingly disappointed face of his daughter always lingering on the edge of his vision. Lucía really seemed to have taken quite a liking to the often rude little boy, and she was well aware it was their last day with them, for now at least. Jaken had already gone back to England, and Brendon, Jon, Spencer and Isaac were going tomorrow. He didn't blame his daughter for wanting to make the best of the time. "I can't speak for Spencer," Ryan finally stated, voice soft. "But Jon is incredible with children and I'd bet you anything that he'd die before letting either of those two get hurt."  


"I've already left Isaac alone multiple times this week, and I want to spend time with my son. I don't want him out of my sight," Brendon said, trying not to grit his teeth, but it was getting rather hard. Why was everyone against him in this? He wanted to keep his son safe, and he would not be able to live with himself if something happened to Isaac and he hadn't been there. Losing his son, a prospect always in the forefront of his mind, was not something he could deal with. Ever.

"It's just a walk, Brendon. I'm sure we'd be back within a couple of hours," Spencer chuckled, trying to lighten the mood, and almost missed Brendon's muttered 'no'. He sighed and shook his head, looking over at Jon, who looked furious.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, Bren," Jon spat, then reigned himself in and forced himself to calm down. He shot a small smile to Lucia. "Looks like it'll just be you and me, darling," he said softly.

Lucía pouted, but hopped out of her chair obediently, walking over to take her uncle's hand. In the process she turned around and stuck her tongue out at Brendon, matching it with a scathing look that made her honey brown eyes look nearly as cold as ice. Ryan found himself shuddering and he wasn't even the recipient of it, but damn, his daughter sure knew how to glare. "Luce," he muttered. "What did I tell you about that tongue?" The girl pouted again before turning away and dragging Jon with her towards the path leading down to the beach. "Well," he said, turning back to the others. "That made for a great atmosphere." He rolled his eyes slightly and pushed his plate away. "It's a commonly known truth that the closer you hold someone who doesn't understand the world, the farther they'll push you away once they do understand, but luckily I don't believe that's something I have to be too worried about." He got up, rolling his shoulders a bit in the process. "I do believe it will feel warmer inside, so excuse me." And with that he walked back inside, heading for the studio in the basement to put the final touches on that demo. He'd planned to do it the following day when everyone had left, but it looked as though he might as well get to it now.   


"Brendon Beauregard, what is your problem!?" Spencer glared at Brendon as soon as everyone had left, staring pointedly when Isaac started squirming and pointing at the two people making their way down to the beach. Of course, Brendon simply held him closer and told him firmly, ' _non_ '. "Why the hell couldn't you just let us take him to the beach? For Christ's sake, Brendon, it's only down there. You probably could have fucking watched us for the whole two hours we were gone! Even that little girl, who is much, much younger than you are, knew that you were just being an asshole!" he exclaimed, wincing afterwards at the amount of time he'd sworn, but one look at Isaac showed him that the little boy was too busy pouting and whining to notice.

Brendon tightened his grip on Isaac, glaring right back at Spencer. "You're always trying to take him away!" he accused, and Spencer stared at him as though he'd lost his mind. "He's my son, not yours! And, yeah, maybe I'm not the best father. I'm certainly not as good as Ryan, because look how well she turned out!" he spat, and Spencer could see his eyes going wide, his screaming getting hysterical, and he knew that Brendon was having one of his fits. The ones he got when he thought that no one believed in him, and that everyone was trying to conspire against him behind his back. Spencer had always thought that it was because Brendon had prepared his whole life to be hated and undermined, and now he was striking back because he'd never been taught how to really  _deal_  with it.

"No one's trying to take Isaac," Spencer reassured calmly. "Listen to yourself, Brendon. Do you really think Jon and I think that you're a terrible father? Don't you think we would have said something by now?" he sighed and rubbed his eyes. "We've talked about you being too over protective, though," he reminded. He looked up again and bit his lip. "You have to stop with the 'the whole world is against me' thing. I know you're tired, you've been in meetings and this week's been emotionally draining for all of us. But you can't use that as an excuse to keep your son by your side at all times. He deserves to have some fun."

"He's all I've got," Brendon whispered miserably, and he could feel the tears pooling in his eyes. He closed them tightly and drew in a shaky breath. "I'm sorry," he said, after a few minutes spent in silence. Brendon bit his lip and let Isaac slide down to the ground, and the little boy hurried inside without a backwards glance, making Brendon's heart leap into his throat. He choked back a sob and covered his face with his hands when he heard Isaac call out 'Ry-un!' quite loudly from inside. He'd just wanted to spend time with his son.. he'd already left him alone more times than he was comfortable with, this week, and he'd started to feel guilty. And now he was feeling guilty all over again, for a completely different reason.  


***

Ryan turned around on the landing at the sound of his name and saw a small ball of energy rushing towards him. He immediately ran back up the stairs and managed to catch Isaac before the little boy toppled down the stairs in his rush. "Hey, little guy," he murmured, hoisting the small body up to sit on his hip. Ryan sent him a small, sympathetic smile before deciding to just leave the subject be. It was Brendon who needed to work stuff out, not Brendon's son. "Do you like music?" he asked instead.

Isaac nodded eagerly and clapped his hands. "Ummm, yes!" he assured, smiling widely to show off his tiny teeth. "Let me walk!" he demanded suddenly, squirming in Ryan's arms. "Papa ne me laisse pas, mais toi oui," he said solemnly, then broke out into a big grin.

Sighing slightly, Ryan carefully put the small boy down but kept a tight grip on both his hands. "I need to hold onto you until we're down the stairs, though," he stated. "It's pretty steep, and you don't want any boo-boos, do you?" He thought for a moment, helping Isaac take the big paces down each stair, making sure never to loosen his hold. "That's what your papa is scared of," he added softly. "When kids get boo-boos their parents feel like they're getting them too, you know?"

"When uncle Spencer was babysitting me, and I climbed out my crib, Papa said I could have falled down the stairs, or hit my head, and then he was crying but I said I was a big boy!" he proclaimed proudly, remembering how his Papa had laughed at that, but still looked sad after. He knew Papa hadn't wanted him to see him cry, but, like a big boy, Isaac had tottered into the kitchen because he could hear Papa and Uncle Spencer arguing. He'd been proud of himself for climbing out of his crib all alone, but Papa had said not to do it again, and then he had started sleeping in Papa's big bed, and that was better than any crib.  


"That you are," Ryan agreed, letting go of the boy's hands when they reached the basement. "And you know he's just scared because he loves you, right?" Although truthfully Ryan doubted that was the whole reason, it was the best explanation to give to one so young. He opened the door in front of him and led Isaac into the studio he'd had installed when he bought the house, smiling in pride as he looked around himself. The demo would wait till tomorrow as had been his original plan. He couldn't exactly work with a loud, out-spoken boy there with him, but he was sure they could come up with something else to do down there, as long as he kept an eye on the boy and the equipment to ensure neither was hurt. "Do you know any good songs?"

Isaac walked around the studio, careful to only skim the many surfaces with his small hands. He didn't want to break anything.  He looked back up at Ryan when the question was asked, his eyes wide and bright. He shook his head. "Jus' the ones Papa sings, and Matante sings en français," he said. "Show me some," he demanded suddenly, flashing Ryan another grin.

"I thought we could play one together," Ryan stated with a small smile, walking to the wall where he picked out a guitar and took it down. Then he walked over to the instrument board, fiddling with the controls and settings for a moment before smiling. "You know Frère Jacques, don't you?" he asked.  


Isaac smiled and nodded. He followed Ryan when he went to get the guitar, and then followed him back towards a big machine that he had no clue what it could possibly do, and then looked around. He looked a bit fearful for a moment. He knew that the song could be sung in English, as well as in French, because his Papa had tried to teach him the English version, but he only knew the French one by heart. "In... in French, right?" he asked softly, afraid that he wouldn't know the words and they wouldn't be able to sing. It was so much nicer in French, anyway.

"In French," Ryan agreed, opening the door into the isolation room and leading Isaac inside. He found a chair and stood it in front of the microphone before plugging in his guitar and lifting the little boy up to stand on the chair. "Sing into this," he instructed, tapping the microphone before he found the remote control and pushed the rec button. Then he walked back to stand next to Isaac and started strumming the guitar softly, waiting to see if the little boy would be able to sing on his own or if Ryan would have to do it with him.  


Isaac looked at the microphone and squirmed nervously. He looked up at Ryan, though, and saw that he looked perfectly at ease, and so decided that it might be safe to sing, even if it was just a little bit. Inching closer to the edge of the chair, he brought his mouth right near the microphone and exhaled softly into it. " _Frère Jacques, frère Jacques, dormez-vous? Dormez-vous?_ " he started, his voice a bit weak, but as he went on, it grew stronger and he concentrated on trying to sing like his Papa, because everyone said he did. " _Sonnez les matines! Sonnez les matines! Ding, ding, dong! Ding, ding, dong!_ " he giggled on the last 'dong,' then looked up at Ryan and started over again, more sure of himself this time as he bobbed his feet along to the music. " _Frère Jacques, frère Jacques! Dormez-vous? Dormez-vous? Sonnez les matines, sonnez les matines! Ding, ding, dong! Ding, ding, dong!_ "

Ryan felt a wide smile growing on his face, fingers moving automatically over frets and strings. He'd played it with Lucía enough to know it by heart by then, but while Lucía was a fair singer for her young age, well... Ryan had to be honest and say that she had absolutely nothing on Isaac. The small boy's voice was still high and childish, but already extremely beautiful; adorable and innocent. When they'd gone through it four times he stopped playing and went to the remote to stop the recording. "That was amazing, kiddo," he stated with a broad smile, walking back over, remote in his pocket now, and ruffled Isaac's hair affectionately. "What about Mary Had a Little Lamb, or Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, know any of those?"

Isaac nodded eagerly again, beaming under the praise. "What's that?" he finally asked, pointing at Ryan's guitar. He'd seen one, once or twice, but never close up. He knew it was an instrument. Papa had told him all about those when he'd asked about the piano in the living room. He liked instruments, but this one was fairly knew.

"It's a guitar," Ryan answered, still smiling. "It's a little big on you, but maybe if you keep visiting I can teach you a little when you get big enough to hold it." He winked, strumming a random chord and letting it die. "Which one would you like to sing, then?" he asked.

Isaac was ecstatic at the prospect of learning the guitar. He'd only just started striking random keys on the piano at home, much to his Papa's amusement. "Mary had a little lamb!" he announced, because that was one that Matante Jenn had taught him and one he liked very much, despite it being in English. "It's long," he said seriously, and scrunched up his face into a look of concentration to help him remember all the words.

"I'll help you sing when you start to forget the words," Ryan promised and pushed the rec button once again. Then he started strumming once again, playing a little intro before sending Isaac an expectant smile.  


Taking a deep breath, Isaac started. "Mary had a little lamb, little lamb, little lamb. Mary had a little lamb, it's fleece was white as snow," he grinned. "Everywhere that Mary went, Mary went, Mary went. Everywhere that Mary went, the lamb was sure to go!" his slight French accent pronounced itself a bit more as he sang, though he didn't stumble on any of the words. "It followed her to school one day, school one day, school one day. It followed her to school one day, which was against the rules. It made the children laugh and play, laugh and play, laugh and play. It made the children laugh and play, to see a lamb at school," he giggled at this part, because he always giggled when they came to where the lamb was in school. He'd never been to a school, but he knew it would be funny to see a lamb anywhere. "And so the teacher turned it out, turned it out, turned it out. And so the teacher turned it out, but still it ling- lingered on!" he bit his lip and looked up at Ryan, hoping that the stumble wouldn't ruin the song. The words were getting harder.   


Ryan flashed him a small smile and joined in in the hopes of giving the boy a bit of confidence back. "And waited patiently about, patiently about, patiently about, and waited patiently about till Mary did appear. Why does the lamb love Mary so, love Mary so, love Mary so, why does the lamb love Mary so? the eager children cry. Why, Mary loves the lamb, you know, loves the lamb, you know, loves the lamb, you know. Why, Mary loves the lamb, you know, the teacher did reply," he finished with the Isaac, and let the last chord linger for a little bit before reaching into his pocket and pushing the button on the remote control again. "Come on," he said, lifting Isaac off the chair and putting him on the floor. "We can go listen to your awesome little voice now." He opened the door and hung the guitar back with the others before walking over to the control board where he plopped into his chair. "Want to sit on my lap so you can see what's going on?" he asked as he leaned in and pressed play, fiddling slightly with the controls to get the volume on Isaac's voice up a little before going back to the start and playing it again, confident it would sound fine now.

Isaac hoisted himself up into Ryan's lap and sat facing the front, avidly watching everything Ryan's hands did. When his voice and Ryan's guitar filled the room, he gasped and smiled up at Ryan. "That's me!" he said, almost making it sound like a question. He bounced up and down in Ryan's lap a bit, excited that he was hearing  _his_  voice, and it sounded so good. His Papa would be so proud! "Can Papa listen to it, too?" he asked meekly, looking up at Ryan and putting his small hand on the man's cheek.   


Grinning, Ryan nodded. "You sound brilliant, can you hear that?" he asked softly. If it were Lucía he would've hugged her or kissed her cheek, but this was Brendon's child, not his, so instead he just ruffled the thick mane of midnight-black hair. "We can burn CDs," he stated, already finding an empty CD to put in the burner and pressing the buttons to make the order. "And then you can give them to whoever you want to listen." He was grateful he'd picked a quick burner and could already take the CD out and replace it with another. "How many do you want?" he asked.  


Isaac frowned a bit, counting off on his fingers who he would want to give a CD to. "Papa," he said, lifting one finger. "Matante, Uncle Spe'cer, Jon..." he held up the four fingers, then added a bit shyly, "Keely?" He wasn't sure if she would like his singing, but she liked songs, so maybe she would want one. He couldn't very well leave her out.

Ryan nodded, a smile still lingering on his face. "Five it is," he agreed. "Or six. You want one just for you, don't you?" He absent-mindedly changed the CDs again, putting the fifth on the table with the first four. Less than a minute later number six joined the previous. Then he found six cases and quickly slipped them in, writing 'Isaac singing' in black marker over the fronts. And then he handed them to the small boy. "Go hand them out then," he instructed with a small wink.  


Isaac grinned and slid off Ryan's lap, the CDs in hand as he hurried up the stairs as fast as his legs would take him. Following his instincts, he went up to his and Papa's room and found him there, along with Spencer, lounging on the bed. Papa looked sad. Isaac climbed onto the bed, with only a bit of help from Spencer, and grinned as he showed them the CDs. "What's this?" Brendon asked, smiling. "Isaac singing?" he grinned. "Is that so? Well, I finally have the most beautiful voice I've ever heard in recording!" he winked. "Do you want to find somewhere to play it right now, or wait until Uncle Jon comes back so we can listen to it together?"

Isaac grinned, flopping down onto his Papa's chest and burrowing his face into his neck. "Later," he said softly, then giggled when he felt someone tickling him.

"Alright," Brendon whispered, rubbing Isaac's back absently, and looked over at Spencer to finish their conversation about nothing important.

***   


The last bits of sun were playing behind him, in the west above the land, but Ryan was facing towards the sea as always, fingers seemingly flying over the keyboard of his laptop as new words and sentences appeared quickly on the open document in front of him. He'd put Lucía to bed about an hour ago and then left the guests to pack their belongings so they were ready for the flight the next morning before retreating to the roof as his habit was. He'd finished the demo earlier, after Isaac had run up to join the others. He'd suddenly just been in the mood to get the vocal track down, and now the file was sent off and he felt incredibly satisfied.

***

Brendon had put Isaac to bed extra early so that the boy wouldn't be exhausted for their flight in the morning. He'd been rather excited today, anyway, what with having his own CD and wanting to show it to everyone multiple times. Finally, Brendon had just finally had it play in the living room and Isaac had jumped around, singing along to his own voice. Brendon had to admit that his son sounding amazing on the two tracks, and the fact that Isaac was so happy had made him grin all day long. Now, though, he was just finishing up his packing and feeling melancholy about leaving. He hesitantly made his way to Ryan's room, peeking in before creeping inside and climbing the ladder. knocking on one of the steps to announce his presence and peeping up to look at Ryan, hoping he wasn't completely out of line in coming to see him.

Ryan looked up from the computer with a small smile. "Come on up," he offered, stretching slightly before leaning in to put the laptop on standby. He recognised Brendon from the head of dark hair that was the only thing yet visible from where he was and chuckled slightly. "I hope you don't get tired of that CD too soon. I have a feeling he isn't going to want it to stop playing for a while." He grinned to himself, taking a sip from his glass, just Coke this time, and watched as more than just Brendon's hair emerged. "He's pretty talented," Ryan added, cocking an eyebrow. "And just so you know, I promised to teach him to play the guitar when he's big enough to hold it, so you'd better keep bringing him around."  


Brendon beamed, staring at Ryan for a few moments before walking over and sitting down next to him. He nodded. "I will," he said softly. "And he's already teaching himself piano, so... don't be surprised if the next time you see him, he learns far more quickly than he should," he smiled. "And he's pretty adamant about you meeting Jenn, you know. Which means he wants to keep you," he winked and then chuckled at the absurdity of it. Of course, though, Isaac would love Ryan. Like father, like son, after all. He sighed softly. He wanted to make plans, arrange dates when they would see each other again, but he didn't want to push Ryan. Didn't want to impose. And what if Ryan was just being nice? What if he never wanted to see him again?

Smiling softly, Ryan gestured towards the chair across from him and leaned back comfortably. "I think he's the type who'll eventually play every instrument known to man. And probably a few more." He gave a short chuckle, shaking his head slightly. "You know you're welcome any time, right?" he asked finally, voice growing more serious. "I know I said 'forever', but I like to think we've worked past that. And having you around has been nice. I'm going to miss you." After a moment's hesitation he reached out his hand and settled it over Brendon's, squeezing for a moment before pulling back again. He was still a little wary about too much contact, about moving too quickly. They had too much of a past not to be cautious, but he also knew he was warming up to the younger man again. And maybe, just maybe, the feelings he once had hadn't been entirely dead. Not as strong or desperate as they had been, granted, and he wouldn't say he was in love with Brendon. But he did like him, a lot, however juvenile that sounded. And maybe he wasn't as opposed to the rest of the feelings returning as he had been.  


Brendon grinned childishly and leaned back in the chair, content. He hadn't been really, truly, content with his life in a while, and it felt good. Better than he'd ever remembered. "I'll... make sure to visit as much as I can," he promised. "And I'll get Jon to come with me so he can start seeing Keely semi-regularly again," he chuckled softly. "Thanks." They sat, in silence, for what could have been only a few minutes, but felt infinitely longer to Brendon. Finally, he pushed himself up and took a step towards the stairs. "I should probably sleep... for the flight tomorrow and all," he said, smiling awkwardly.

"Yeah," Ryan agreed. "I'll just stay out here another half hour or so. Then I should be able to finish this chapter." He groaned slightly. "I have a deadline in two months, actually. I just tend to deliberately forget that little fact." He smiled slightly, looking up at the younger man before he pushed himself out of his chair and walked over, wrapping his arms around Brendon and hugging him tightly. He leaned in, intending to peck Brendon's cheek, but when they for some reason turned their heads simultaneously, it ended up hitting the younger man's mouth instead, and Ryan felt shock course through his body, unable to move for long moments until he wrenched himself away, blushing. "Sorry," me murmured. "Bad aim."  


Brendon stumbled back a little, opening his eyes because they had fallen shut, and blushed as well. He gave a lopsided grin, muttering "S'okay," before hurrying back down into the house lest he jump Ryan right then and there. Once he was back in his room, he flopped down onto his bed and smiled into his pillow. Bad aim or not, Ryan had wanted to kiss him.


	21. Chapter 21

"Will you calm down, Brendon! Look, Isaac even thinks you're making a fool of yourself. You didn't forget anything, Ryan is waiting for us, so you're going to march right up to that door and knock. Now!" Jenn finished firmly, pointing at the door expectantly and bordering on sneering at Brendon. Isaac giggled behind his hand before huffing and hurrying towards the door. He was excited to see Ryan again, and maybe if he knocked, they would see each other faster. And while Papa was arguing with Matante Jenn, well, maybe he'd have Ryan alone for a few seconds. Taking a deep breath, Isaac knocked loudly on the door, smiling widely the whole time.

Inside, Ryan had been helping Lucía with some of her summer homework, incredulous, really, that they'd give kids this young stuff to do over the summer. But then he supposed he gave her enough vacations over the year as it was, what with taking her out of school when they went to Spain and everything. He just didn't like the thought of her staying with a sitter for days on end, and he knew she was smart enough not to fall behind because of it. He started slightly when he heard the knock before getting up, grinning down at his daughter who was pouting at the small addition and subtraction problems she'd been working with. "Who do you think that is?" he asked, already making his way to the door. Lucía squealed, the pout turning into a grin as she got up and latched onto his hand just before they reached the door. At first Ryan didn't see anyone, but then he felt a tugging on his pant leg and looked down to see a familiar mess of black hair and a grinning child face, and with a laugh he bent down and scooped Isaac up, giving him a tight hug before putting him down again. "Hey there, little guy," he greeted with a wide smile. "How was the flight?"

"Not little," Isaac muttered, puffing out his chest. "I'm four!" he exclaimed proudly, drawing the attention of his father and Matante. Jenn smiled, pushing her dark hair away from her face and walked over to where Isaac was standing. Her eyes were twinkling in that endearing way she had and she was giving everyone a thousand-watt smile that was completely genuine. She looked up briefly when Brendon joined them, and then turned back to Ryan.

"Hi, I'm Jenn," she said, putting her hand out for Ryan to shake, even as Brendon groaned and muttered something under his breath.

Ryan smiled back, reaching out and taking the offered hand to give it a small squeeze and shake before letting go. She had dark hair and eyes and he realized her features were close enough to Brendon's that they could almost have passed as brother and sister. It wasn't odd at all that Isaac had wound up looking so much like Brendon, because that kind of meant looking like his mother too. "Ryan," he stated. "It's nice to meet you." He nodded towards the small girl next to him who was practically bouncing on the soles of her feet. "That's my daughter, Keely," he added and turned back to Isaac, leaving the girls to get acquainted. "You are!" he stated with a grin. "I nearly forgot. Happy birthday! I think we might even have a present stashed away somewhere in here, how's that sound?"

"Yes!" Isaac shrieked, causing Brendon to look pained and mutter some more. Jenn, on the other hand, chuckled softly before crouching down a bit and offering her hand to Ryan's daughter. "Hello, Keely. I've heard so many good things about you from your uncle Jon," she said, winking and offering another smile.  


"Thank you," Brendon said, addressing Ryan. "For riling up my son and getting him beyond excited," he said wryly. "I hope you're ready to tuck him into bed, because I'm sure not going to fight with him about it." He paused for a moment before breaking out in a grin and chuckling softly, patting Isaac's head when he looked up, frowning and pretending to be offended. "How've you been?" he asked softly.

Ryan laughed, shaking his head. "You know you love it," he stated. "And I've been fine. A bit busy, but I made the deadline  _and_  made songs for three different bands, so I feel pretty accomplished." He took a deep breath and shook his head slightly. It wasn't supposed to be this awkward, and so he decided to break that atmosphere by leaning in and wrapping his arms around the younger man in a tight, if brief, hug. "I missed you," he muttered before pulling back, still smiling. "What about you? How are things?"

Next to him Lucía grinned proudly. "Hello," she answered. "I can tell you a lot of good things about Uncle Jon too. Do you think he'd be happy?" Then she leaned in a little closer, lowering her voice to a stage-whisper. "And some funny stuff too," she added.

Brendon broke out into one of the biggest smiles ever to grace his features, and then immediately starting blushing. Christ, he was like a... like a teenager or a-- virgin, or something. "Missed you, too," he said quietly. "I've been working with the charity a lot. Dinners, more conferences, meeting people, all that fun stuff. Hired a tutor for mister Isaac over here and, um, gotsometherapy," he muttered quickly, looking sheepish. Isaac looked up when his name was mentioned, and made a face at his father, though the man wasn't looking. "And I learned some piano!" he announced in a sing-song voice, reminding his father about the most important part of these last several months.  


"Really?" Jenn said, lowering her own voice. She looked up at the others, as though to see if they were listening, and then leaned in closer herself. "I think we're going to be very good friends, you and I," she confided quietly, then smiled again and straightened. "Shall we bring some things inside?" she asked Keely, picking up her own suitcase and Brendon's. 

Lucía giggled and nodded wildly, following at the woman's heels back into the house. "I can show you around and everything," she offered, enchanted already. Other than teachers, it wasn't often she talked much to women or even other girls. For friends, she liked boys better, even though the other girls thought they all had cooties. She was glad she was in a mixed school because girls were  _boring_  and afraid to climb trees and stamp in mud and get dirty, but she did like to speak with grown-ups who were women sometimes, if they were cool. This Jenn definitely seemed to be.

"Sounds like I'm not the only one who's had enough to do," Ryan stated, resolving not to ask Brendon about the therapy bit until they were alone. He turned down to Isaac with another smile. "Really? I'll have to hear it sometime." He reached down and took the boy's hand, flashing Brendon a grin. "Let's go find your present before you wet yourself, shall we?"

Isaac scrunched his nose and scoffed at Ryan, mimicking what he'd seen his father do countless times. "Don't be gross, Ry-un," he said, purposely sticking to what he'd called Ryan when he'd seen him last. He looked back to see if his Papa was following, and he was, with Isaac's own little suitcase in his hand and a carry-on bag in the other. He smiled at his Papa, and Brendon smiled back, shaking his head lightly. "Spoiled little boy," he muttered, and Isaac giggled excitedly, didn't even bothering to deny it.

"Oh, I'd like that. You two have a very nice home here," she smiled down at Keely. "And I'm sure you have a room full of toys and movies and anything else you could possibly want. Would you like to show me to our rooms first, so that I can get rid of these heavy suitcases? And then you can show me whatever you like."

Ryan laughed, reaching out with his free hand to ruffle Isaac's hair. "I'll stop being gross when you stop jumping around," he offered with a laugh. "How much sugar did your papa let you have on the plane?" He led them quickly into his study and went to his desk where he picked up the present, handing it to the little boy, already imagining his expression when he saw the miniature guitar that he'd be able to hold and play in ways he couldn't hope to do with the real thing for years to come.

"Thank you," Lucía said, still smiling. "I like this a lot better than the flat we had before, but Daddy had to make some money before we could get a real house. And a villa too." She looked up expectantly as she led the guest towards the stairs. "You  _have_  to come see the villa sometime! It's brilliant!" Finally reaching the top of the stairs, she sped up a little, skipping down the hall before pointing out three doors. "That's yours, and that's for Brendon and the little boy, and that's the bathroom," she informed on one quick breath.

Jenn smiled at Keely and nodded. "Oh, yes, Brendon and Uncle Jon told me all about the villa. It sounded breathtaking. And of course I would love to come visit, if ever I was invited, darling." She opened the door to the room Keely had pointed out for her and placed her suitcase near the bed. She could unpack a bit later. Next, she went into Brendon's bedroom and put his suitcase near the bed before coming out into the hallway again. "What would you say to having a few sleepovers with Isaac?" she asked quietly. "Now, as I understand, it didn't go very well last time, but Brendon has been making Isaac sleep in his own room for a couple months, now, and I think it would be better for both of them, and their future relationship, if Isaac didn't sleep with him," she paused for a moment. "Old habits die hard, hm?" She'd long ago decided that she would never dumb-down her language when she was speaking to children. Contrary to popular belief, they usually understood perfectly when they were being spoken to like adults, and if they didn't, they never hesitated to ask questions.

Downstairs, Isaac ripped into his present, gasping loudly and dramatically as he uncovered his own guitar, perfectly sized for his body. He looked up at Ryan, eyes impossibly wide, and then threw himself against the man's legs, hugging them tightly. "Thankyouthankyouthankyou!" he exclaimed, laughing happily. When he pulled out of the hug, it was to rush over to his father, waving the instrument about. "Look, Papa! Look!" he insisted, though Brendon had already been looking and smiling proudly. "Wow," he said. "Aren't you a lucky little boy?" he winked, then looked up at Ryan and smiled gratefully.

Ryan grinned back at Brendon before turning his eyes onto Isaac once again. "We can start your lessons a little sooner now, huh? I didn't think you really wanted to wait years for it. Besides, you always become best with the instruments you start playing the earliest. Just a couple of years from now you'll probably be better at it than I am." He winked, plopping into his chair to wait for the excitement to blow over. "Just tell me when you want the tour," he added, mostly speaking to Brendon.

"It is!" Lucía exclaimed. "I lovelove _love_  it! When I grow up I want to live in Spain all the time! It rains all the time here!" She pouted slightly at that questionable fact but quickly dropped the expression. "I would love a sleep-over," she stated, grinning. "I just don't like it if he screams like he did last time. I don't understand why he sleeps in his daddy's room so much either," she added thoughtfully. "I became too big for that when I was two," she added proudly, puffing up a little. "And you're supposed to have sleepovers with people your own age, not with daddies." Then she grabbed the woman's hand, pulling her with her down the hall until they reached a door with KEELY LUCÍA written on it in pink and petrol-colored letters. She quickly pushed the door open. "Look!" she exclaimed happily.

"Oh my, it looks like you have everything a girl could ask for," Jenn gushed, walking farther into the room and letting her gaze sweep over everything. She crouched down and looked at Keely now that they were eye-level. "I'm very grateful that you would give Isaac another chance. Proves that you're a real woman, you know, and also a very well-brought up little lady" she smiled softly. "Now, Isaac used to sleep with his father because he would climb out of his crib, which is just like a boy to not pay attention to things that are meant to keep him safe," she chuckled. "And, since his father didn't want him to get hurt, he started having Isaac sleep with him and it just... stuck," she shrugged a bit, squeezing Keely's hand as she straightened again. "But, they've both grown out of, now, which is better for everyone."

Brendon chuckled, walking in further to Ryan's office and shrugging. "I'm sure Keely's already giving Jenn the full tour; so, I don't think you have to worry about it. Maybe just the kitchen? Jenn was complaining about how hungry she was in the cab. Now that she's in someone's house, though, she wouldn't dare ask unless it was offered, so I think I could just get her something, if that's alright with you...?"

"It sounds great," Ryan stated. "We put off dinner since we didn't know exactly when you'd be here, which is also why there's no big, fancy dinner. I hope there aren't too many objections to heated pizza and plain ice cream for dessert." He got out of the chair again and crossed through the room, his fingers automatically shooting out to run affectionately through Isaac's hair when he passed the boy, and once out of the study he headed towards the kitchen to get the stuff ready.  


"I climbed out too," Lucía stated upstairs. "But Daddy put a kiddie fence on my door so I had to yell for him if I wanted to get out, and a mattress under my bed so I couldn't get boo-boos if I fell. He said that way I could at least play if I woke up before him, and he wouldn't have to worry. I like that I get to do things and he doesn't always have to be around," she added. "It's nice when he's around, but I also like to play alone sometimes. Grown-ups don't really know how to play well." She grinned wide and pointed at her bed. "Look, I have a big-girl bed now!"

Jenn grinned at the girl, inwardly wishing Brendon had thought of something equally reasonable for Isaac and his climbing-out-of-the-crib problem. He'd been much younger, though, and had rushed into having a child, and had been too proud to ask help from anyone. She sighed softly. "You're right. Grown-ups aren't very good at playing," she chuckled. She had played a bit with Isaac, but she couldn't remember the last time she'd gotten down on her hands and knees and played a child's game. "Should we go downstairs and see what the men are doing?"

Brendon followed after Ryan, listening for the soft pitter-patter of Isaac's feet to make sure his son was following. He was also strumming the guitar as loudly as he could and humming to the horrible tune. Brendon chuckled to himself and shook his head. "Pizza sounds great," he finally said, catching up to Ryan. "Need any help?"

"You can set the table," Ryan answered, pulling the pizzas out of the supermarket packages before finding a pack of ground cheese - the pre-fabricated pizzas never seemed to have cheese enough on them - and pouring a good amount over the food, followed by a few extra spices to take away some of the cheap flavor before he placed them in the pre-heated oven, then headed towards the fridge for drinks. "Do you know what everybody would like to drink?" he asked, taking out one of the bottles of tinto de verano he'd brought from Spain as well as a Fanta Orange for Lucía, placing both on the table before looking up at Brendon expectantly.

Lucía nodded wildly again. She'd always loved exaggerating the movements of her head because it tickled nicely when her hair, pulled into plaits today, bobbed around her head. "If Daddy is cooking we need to go help," she said conspiratorially. "He's a good cook, but he burns the food if I'm not there to keep an eye on him. He says it's because artists get easily distracted and Uncle Jaken says it's because he's got his head in the clouds, but I think he just forgets because he always has so many things to do." She grabbed Jenn's hand again, hoping she wouldn't mind, and dragged her back towards the stairs.  


Jenn laughed, walking quickly to keep up with the little girl. She was enchanting, really, and had a way of talking to people that Jenn had never seen in a child. She certainly hadn't seen it in Isaac, who preferred actions to words most of the time. She was glad that her son had taken to talking a bit more, but it had taken him a long time to do it. They walked into the kitchen to see Brendon setting the table, saying that Isaac would probably be fine with whatever Keely was drinking, and Jenn would drink whatever Ryan was. "We're not picky," he said, turning and smiling at Jenn when he heard her come in. "Speak of the devil," he muttered, winking. "We're going to have pizza," he said, and Jenn nodded.

"Is there anything we can do, save for standing here and looking pretty?" she asked, chuckling when Brendon rolled his eyes at her.

"If Brendon's done setting the table there's really not, no," Ryan answered, reaching into the fridge for another Fanta. "Are you all right with soft alcohol or would you rather have pop or water or something?" he asked, putting the second bottle of soda on the table. He watched with a smile as Lucía went for the oven, leaning down a bit to peer in before stepping away, satisfied that the pizzas weren't quite done yet.  


"I think I want some alcohol after that plane ride," Jenn stated, shuddering exaggeratedly. She turned back to Keely for a moment. "Where are you sitting, sweetie?" she asked, intending to sit next to the girl if she could. She rather liked her. She'd always wanted children of her own, but between Isaac and working for the firm, she rarely had time to meet men, let alone have relationships with them. Which was odd, because Brendon had been the exact same way for years. She feared, sometimes, that they were too much alike. Isaac didn't have the slightest chance at being normal. She smiled to herself as she looked around the kitchen, glad that everyone looked content.

"I'm done," Brendon announced, putting down the last of the cutlery. "And the plane ride wasn't that bad," he muttered. "She's just looking for an excuse to drink," he said, and dodged Jenn's hand when she tried to smack his arm.

Ryan just laughed and took out a second bottle to make sure they had enough. It wasn't as though it was bad anyway, the percentage being only a bit more than half of what would be found in regular wine. "Plane rides are always tiring, even when everything goes perfectly with the plan," he stated.

Lucía pointed out her usual seat, which was right across from Daddy's, so it wouldn't feel big and alone even when they were only the two of them. "Do you know what my name means?" she suddenly asked, excitedly and proudly, looking up expectantly.

Jenn took the sit next to Keely's, on her right, and then looked up at her again. She hummed thoughtfully for a second, just to make the girl squirm, and then shook her head. "Nope, I'm afraid I don't," she answered.

Brendon sat Isaac on the other side of Keely, hoping they would get along again. He took a seat next to where Ryan would be sitting, telling himself it was just because he'd be facing his son, and not because he needed to be close to the other man. He wasn't  _that_  pathetic.

"It means 'beautiful light'," Lucía informed brightly, huffing up a bit again, and Ryan felt an indulgent smile pass over his lips, remembering the first time he had realized that. He'd picked his daughter's name because it fit the family traditions, sounded pretty and shouldn't get her teased too much, and it was only months later that it had suddenly clicked what it meant and that that was exactly what she'd become to him, in his life. "I like my name," Lucía added, and Ryan found himself chuckling. As if everyone hadn't figured that out by then.

"I like the irony of it," he stated, laughing at the playful glare the little girl flashed him. "You know I'm kidding," he added complacently, sending her a sincere smile before turning to the oven and realizing the pizzas were done, setting about getting them out and ready to be served. 

"I think that it's a beautiful name," Jenn smiled indulgently and patted Keely's hand. She glanced over at Isaac, who seemed to be trying to puzzle something out, and wasn't the least surprised when he turned to his father and demanded to know what his own name meant. Brendon, of course, spluttered and 'uh'ed a lot, without really answering. Jenn, to put him out of his misery, turned to Isaac. "Your name means 'He will laugh,' darling. We knew it was meant for you the moment we heard that infectious giggle of yours. Made Spencer and Papa both wet themselves laughing whenever you started," she winked and laughed when Isaac brightened, turning to his father, who simply nodded and offered him a smile. Brendon sat back when the pizzas were set on the table, thanking Ryan for all of his  _hard_  work teasingly.

Ryan suppressed a laugh, mock-glaring at the younger man. He wasn't sure who had gotten the habit first, Lucía or himself, but they had definitely rubbed off on each other. "Let's see you make something more complicated," he muttered, faintly remembering Brendon not having a clue what to do even with canned food that only needed heating. "I was planning on roast chicken for tomorrow if no one's against that," he informed, taking his seat and setting about cutting the pieces. He gave Isaac a small smile. "And your name fits you. I hope it always will." 

***

When they had finished dinner, the adults had retired to the living room to talk about nothing at all, leaving Isaac to follow Keely to her room and play with her again, which he'd enjoyed doing before and loved even more now. He was glad that she had all kinds of toys, including ones he preferred. Once it was time to put the children to bed, Jenn quickly informed Brendon of the plans she'd made with Keely and watched his nostrils flare and eyes narrow slightly for a moment before he put on a smile and nodded. Now, Jenn had gone up to her own room to unpack, leaving Brendon and Ryan to talk.

"Looks like Keely likes Jenn," he said, after trying to find something suitable to say for a few silent minutes. He looked up at Ryan and smiled before letting his gaze drop.

"I think she's a little bit in love already," Ryan stated with a small laugh. "She's like that with her friend's moms as well. I think she likes the company of grown women more because she doesn't have a mother of her own." He leaned back in the deep, soft chair, one ankle hooked comfortably under the opposite thigh. "So," he muttered, looking up questioningly. "Therapy?"  


"Oh," Brendon muttered as well, looking away awkwardly for a moment. "Yeah, well... it occurred to me that, maybe, being so over protective of Isaac wasn't necessarily a good thing," he explained softly, then shrugged. "You should see my therapist. She's, literally, older than dirt," he grinned and shook his head. "I don't think she can even move. Just sits there in her chair..." he trailed off and sighed softly. "She's.. really good, though. Has ten kids. Can you imagine?" he tilted his head back and laughed.  


"I thought one was hard enough," Ryan muttered, shuddering slightly. "You're probably right, though," he added. "And it's good you're doing something about it." He restrained himself from saying that therapists were an entirely separate class of assholes, managing a small smile. "I don't have the best experiences with therapy," he added with a bit of a grimace, looking down at his hands. "But whatever works for you."  


Brendon shifted uncomfortably and nodded. "Hopefully they're not all the same, right?" he asked with a small smile. "Anyway, um... Oh! I completely forgot! Jon wanted me to deliver some news, because apparently he doesn't know how to pick up a phone, or something..." he trailed off, grinning. "He and Spencer are moving in together. Like, officially. They won't answer any of my questions, mainly 'what does this mean,' but Spencer had that smile and... well, anyway. They're moving in together. Though, don't ask me why it took them so damn long..."

Ryan burst out laughing, shaking his head. "That has been ages in the making," he stated when he could finally breathe properly again. "You can tell them congratulations for me in any case." He leaned back, more comfortable again. Discussing therapists, honestly made his skin crawl, and he wasn't particularly eager to get back to that subject. "Still living close to you or are they moving farther away?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow.  


"Oh, they've been arguing about that," he chuckled. "Jon really likes Spain, would like living closer to Keely, but Spencer has his job and the children, and it's just constant bickering whenever the subject comes up. But, I wouldn't expect anything else from them, I guess," he smiled and shrugged. "Jenn keeps telling Spencer that she'll represent him if anything happens, which makes Jon just fucking vicious, really, but it's not as though they can get married or anything, she's just kidding..." he trailed off again and shrugged, still smiling. "Maybe they should move to Canada," he mused, only half-joking.

Ryan felt a slight lurch in his chest at the thought of them all being so far away from each other, but it wasn't like it really mattered to his seeing Jon and Spencer since he couldn't go to the States anyway. He'd be able to visit in Canada, though, but to be entirely honest, he'd definitely like them moving to Spain, selfish though it was with Spencer being Isaac's Godfather and everything, which meant he shouldn't be too far away from the boy. "Knowing them they'll probably stay put for another couple of years before they manage to figure anything out at all," he stated with a small smile, looking up at the younger man. Without having to search his mind he could remember two proverbs about being apart, and while 'out of sight out of mind' had, over time, fitted the years they'd spent apart, these last few months were probably better described with 'absence makes the heart grow fonder', because he was suddenly feeling a slight lurch in his chest when he looked at Brendon. He had known from the beginning that if he wasn't careful his old emotions would come rushing back to the surface, but he had never expected to feel this much this quickly, and he found himself averting his gaze, suddenly a bit nervous.  


"I agree with that. They'll definitely be that bickering old couple that everyone finds more annoying than cute, though no one ever says anything," he chuckled and looked over at Ryan, frowning a bit. He cleared his throat, keeping silent for a few seconds before shrugging to himself. "You okay? I don't think they'll actually move to Canada, if it's any consolation. Jon would have a fit, and so would Spencer. Actually, I'm starting to think that the odds are on Spain, if Spencer can find a substitute to do the on-hands work he's currently taking care of." He paused for a second, then went on. "He can do a lot of stuff from home, and he really liked Spain when we were there. He's always gushing about it, it's really kind of annoying..."

Smiling softly, still without looking up, Ryan nodded. "You could just move the operation to Europe," he said, trying to make it come out lightly and jokingly. He thought he succeeded. "It's not like any of you are home-grown New Yorkers anyway." He shrugged, placing his hands on the arms of the chair to keep from fiddling too much with his fingers. "So," he said after a somewhat long pause. "Isaac is talking a lot more, isn't he?"  


"We're helping a lot of people," Brendon said quietly, averting his gaze. "And they... need to be close to home, right now," he explained, leaving out that he, too, needed to be close to home. Except, what was home without Ryan? He closed his eyes briefly and sat back, pushing those thoughts away and concentrating on Isaac. "He is, actually. Thank God, or else people would have thought him mute or something. I think the time there did him some good, because it was all he talked about for weeks. And I think that's what showed him that communicating was a good thing," he smiled lopsidedly, almost amazed out how a trip to Spain could coax his son into talking, when nothing else had previously.  


"I think finding things he was interested in and talking to him about it as well as having people around who aren't fluent in French probably helped a bit too," Ryan stated, fighting down the disappointment at Brendon's answer. It wasn't like he'd expected him to suddenly offer to move everything across the Atlantic at Ryan's say-so anyway. At the same time, though, it didn't seem particularly bright to go any further with the relationship they might be trying to build up when they lived thousands of miles apart. Ryan didn't think he'd ever heard any good thing uttered about long-distance relationships. Sure, the short times spent together might be that much sweeter, but he couldn't remember ever hearing about something like that lasting. And he couldn't start something back up with Brendon and not have it last. He simply wasn't strong enough for that. So, he resolved, he wouldn't let them take it any further until something workable was resolved.    


Brendon chuckled, though he could sense that something was going on in Ryan's head, and that it wasn't something good. He liked that, how he could just tell, sometimes, that Ryan was upset about something, but at the same time it made him feel horrible for having been the cause of it. He sighed softly. "Yeah, I've told Jenn countless times to shut up with the French, but she keeps saying that it just  _slips out_ ," he said, and he clearly didn't believe her excuse. Never had. He was preoccupied, though, with trying to think of what could have upset Ryan. And then it hit him. Maybe the fact that they lived so far apart had, once again, been shoved into his face. Brendon sighed, then brightened. "Hey, are there any, uh, you know... villa things for sale near yours?"

Ryan felt something brighten a bit inside. "I don't know," he admitted, smiling sheepishly and finally glancing up through wavy bangs. "I still have my real estate agent's phone number, though." He shrugged slightly. "And when Isaac gets older, well, it'll probably do him a world of good in these international times to be bi-lingual, so long as he has as much focus on his English as his French." He pushed himself out of his chair, stretching and hearing a couple of pops. "Ugh, I'm getting old," he muttered, reaching up to rake his fingers through his hair. "I'm thirsty," he stated. "You want some?"  


Brendon barked out a surprised laugh. "Oh, yeah. You're ancient. Get away from me, you old geezer," he chuckled and pulled a face at Ryan before winking. "I'm... kind of thirsty, though, yeah.." he said, after the laughter had died down. He stretched in his chair and sighed. "Seriously, though, don't let Jenn hear you say anything about getting old. She's your age and she would absolutely go haywire if you even suggested it," he called softly, watching Ryan disappear.

A small chuckle made its way past Ryan's lips even as he kept making his way towards the kitchen. "At least it seems I finally know someone my own age," he threw back over his shoulder before opening the fridge, taking out two bottles of water and wandering back into the living room, tossing one to Brendon before sitting back down in his chair. "So..." he started after a while, fishing out for a subject to talk about. "What do you do with your spare time these days anyway?"  


"I... listen to Isaac play the piano. Horribly, by the way, but he's still trying and he'll get there," he grinned. "Jenn comes over to dinner on Thursdays, Spencer and Jon on Wednesdays... I took some swimming classes with Isaac to get him acquainted with the water, and though he's still a little scared, he's getting better. Uh... well, basically I have no life, I guess," he laughed again and shook his head. "Not that that's anything new, but... Oh, I'm singing! With Isaac, I mean. He basically forced me to take him to singing classes, and then when we got there, he forced me to sing with him. He's... really got this way of forcing me to do stuff," he said thoughtfully, frowning a bit before breaking into another grin. "How about you?"

Ryan found himself shrugging again. "Jaken and Lucía, mostly. But really, odd as it sounds, my jobs are really kind of my passions, and the things I see myself doing as a pastime if I'd wound up in any other line of work. So work, I guess, is what I do with my spare time too." He laughed a little. "I guess that means I have even less of a life than you do," he added with a wink, opening his bottled water and taking a long swallow. "I have a book coming out in a few months' time," he added with a grin, that slight proud feeling of accomplishment settling in his gut once more, the same way it always did. "And some producer or other is in negotiation with my agent about movie rights for one of the older ones. At least it looks like I won't be running out of cash anytime soon."  


"Oh, right, I was meaning to talk to you about that, Mr  _Hastings_ ," he smiled wryly. "Mr Dress Up A Real Story And Tell It With Pretty Words And Metaphors And Maybe No One Will Notice," he smirked now, unable to contain himself. He shook his head, bringing his legs up and draping them over the arm of the chair as he stared at Ryan thoughtfully. He'd been in complete denial upon finding the book, almost convincing himself that there was a real Ryan Hastings in the world who'd written it. But he had read it, and he could recognize  _this_  Ryan anywhere, even in words.

A blush was starting to stain his cheeks, and Ryan looked down again in a futile attempt to hide it. "It was the last year of university and things were finally getting better. That book was really just... something I needed to get out. The last bit of moving on I could do on my own, rather than waiting for time to dull it down," he stated honestly. "It's not even that good writing, but you know how well fantasy's been selling for the last few decades, and apparently they think this will make the great Christmas movie of the year after next." He laughed a little, shaking his head. "It still seems so unreal," he confessed. "Two years ago I was shit-poor and regarded as a bit of a loonie who'd had his fifteen minutes of fame and not said anything worth remembering throughout, so apparently not someone really worth listening to. Now I have enough money that I never have to worry about them again, enough that Lucía and her children probably won't either, and people camping outside of book stores waiting for a release, and songs on platinum albums. It doesn't seem real, a lot of them time." He smiled faintly. "As to the name, I didn't want to use my own, and I was in a bit of a hurry. It was the first thing I came up with. And I do like the irony of it."

Brendon chuckled and nodded. "Well, congratulations, then," he said, looking at Ryan and offering his a genuine smile. "I'm really--"  _proud of you_  he wanted to say. But did he have to right to say that? He was proud of Ryan. For doing something he loved with his life, for moving on, for healing. He smiled faintly, suddenly self-conscious. "I'm really proud of you," he said quietly, and then leaned back on the chair, tilting his head back a bit to look at the ceiling. He had a feeling that his visit with Ryan would be nothing but  _good_  this time.

Ryan could feel every detail of the warmth spreading through his stomach, leaving him with a comfortable buzz in his whole body, almost as though he were a little tipsy. He supposed he'd never realized how much he'd wanted to hear those words from someone who actually mattered. "Thanks," he muttered softly, blushing just a bit, just enough that his ears felt a bit too hot. He smiled wryly, getting a handle on himself again. "I can't say I'm too disappointed in what you decided to do with your life either," he added with yet another wink, feeling a small moment of disbelief at how comfortable he felt. He had never been comfortable around Brendon like this before, almost as though it wouldn't matter if they weren't talking, because right at the moment simply  _being_  was all that mattered. It was a great feeling.  


Brendon smiled softly, letting the silence hang for some time. When he yawned, though, Brendon chuckled softly and pushed himself up. "Didn't realize I was so tired," he mumbled. "I'm going to, uh, go to bed," he said, for a second wishing that he could go to Ryan's bed, instead. But sleeping in separate beds was what people did when they were trying to move slow, and Brendon was fine with that, he really was. "You going to head up?" he asked, stretching and yawning again.

Nodding, Ryan got out of the chair, finishing off his water and settling the empty bottle on the table, making a mental note to put it away in the morning. "Yeah," he murmured. "Sleeping is starting to sound pretty awesome." He smiled and started heading towards the stairs, confident Brendon was behind him. Once they reached the top he turned around to look straight at the younger man. "Are you serious about Spain?" he asked.  


Brendon stopped abruptly, looking up at Ryan in surprised, a smile slowly forming on his lips. "Of course I am," he said softly. And he was. He'd been thinking about it since his visit, but he had never thought that he'd get up the courage to go through with asking Ryan about it. Fear of being rejected, or-- anything negative, really, almost had him biting his tongue whenever he thought about it.

Ryan felt another bit of warmth burst inside, and without giving himself another second to think about it, he leaned in and caught Brendon's lips with his own, deliberately this time. It lasted only a moment, chaste and closed-mouthed, before he pulled back, smiling softly. "Good night," he whispered before he turned around and walked towards his own bedroom.  


Jenn, who'd been lurking in front of Brendon's door, waiting for him, gaped at the two men on the stairs, an amused glint in her eyes. When Ryan passed her, she gave him a smile, but she doubted he'd noticed her. When Brendon noticed her, though, he pushed her into his room and then closed the door firmly behind him before leaning heavily onto it. "He kissed me!" he said in a hushed, but very excited, voice. Jenn smiled and jumped up and down a bit, pretending to clap her hands. "What are you still doing up?" he asked after a few minutes, and she smiled at him.   


"Just wanted to know what you two talked about. You know how nosy I am; you should be thankful I wasn't eavesdropping or anything," she answered with a wink before throwing herself onto Brendon's bed and cuddling into the blankets. Brendon rolled his eyes and joined her.

***

It wasn't that she was bad at math, really, it wasn't, but now she was through the simplest problems and suddenly the numbers she had to add and subtract had  _two_  digits, and that was a lot harder! Lucía glared down at the pages of her work book, hoping that if she could just glare hard enough they'd become just one digit again. She liked English a lot better, learning the letters and a tiny bit of spelling, and she could already read. Not a lot of the other kids could do that, so the teacher always smiled proudly at her when she demonstrated that. Lucía liked that a lot. She looked back down on the numbers and pouted when she realized they were still the same. She would much rather be playing music with Daddy and Isaac, but Daddy had said to spend an hour a day on school work before fun until she had nothing left, but school work just wasn't, well, fun. At least it was raining outside, so she didn't have to miss the playground so much. She gave the numbers another glare and drew a puppy in the margin, pencil held awkwardly in her little, untrained hand. Daddy had promised that when there was no more summer homework she would get that puppy of her very own, and that was totally worth it, but what help was that when she didn't know how to work with two digits? With another glare she abandoned the book, pouting as she went into the kitchen in the hopes that there was a grown-up nearby she could lure into giving her sweets or a soda pop. She totally deserved sugar! 

***

Brendon was sulking. His three favourite people in the world had abandoned him; the two boys for a guitar lesson, and Jenn had some research to do for an upcoming case. And he'd been left alone, in a strange house, with nothing to do except eat all of Ryan's cookies. Which was what he was now attempting to do. He'd poured himself a glass of milk and put about a dozen chocolate chip cookies on a plate. Hoisting himself up onto the counter, Brendon swung his legs back and forth as he pouted and counted Mississippi's in his head. And then Keely came in.

"Uh-- um, hi," he said, trying to hide the plate of cookies behind him, but there wasn't enough room and all he succeeded in doing was clanging it against his glass of milk. Mentally cursing himself, Brendon offered the girl a strained smile before looking away.

"Can I have one, please?" Lucía asked, looking up and widening her eyes dramatically. Her experience was that that usually got grown-ups to smile and go a bit blank in the face and give her whatever she wanted. She really kind of liked that. "My homework is  _horrible_ , and the numbers have  _two digits_  and I don't know how to  _do it_ and I want a cookie! And a soda pop!"  


Brendon tapped his chin, pretending to think. "Hmmm... what would your dad say if you had asked him?" he finally questioned, still looking rather pensive. His experience with children-- mainly the ones Spencer worked with everyday-- told him that they would either lie and say it was perfectly alright for them to have cookies and soda at any time of the day, or they would look contrite and mumble something before making a face and running off. He wasn't actually sure if Keely was allowed, though, so he'd probably take her word for it, in the end.   


"I'm allowed to have what he has so long as it's not in the big, dark bottles or in the living room cabinet," Lucía answered. "But he's not here, but you are, so I think I can have whatever you're having. Would you like a soda pop? They're right in the fridge." She smiled widely, convinced she was going to get things her way. And maybe she could trick him into helping her with the math problems too.  


"I'm not so sure so much sugar is good for a little girl," Brendon grumbled as he handed over a cookie. "How about we split a soda, so that you don't ruin supper, and I don't get yelled at, alright?" He slid off the counter and went over to the fridge, opening it and then looking in blankly. "Right, well, what would you like?" he asked, beckoning Keely over to make a choice.   


Lucía quickly shuffled over and looked up at the selections. She finished chewing the first bite of her cookie and swallowed, because she was a big enough girl to be  _polite_ , and gave another smile. "Orange," she answered decisively before walking back to the table and climbing onto her chair, taking another bite of her cookie, chewing and swallowing. "What do you know about math?" she asked, flashing another pout.  


"Absolutely nothing," Brendon answered wearily, grabbing the orange soda and taking out two glasses. He headed over to the table and poured the soda, giving himself a bit more just because he didn't want her bouncing off the walls. She was already half way there, anyway. "Didn't you learn it in school or something?"

"Yes, but now it has  _two digits_ ," Lucía answered, making grabby hands for the soda pop. "And I think I was in Spain when we learnt that. And Daddy usually helps me, but now he's helping the little boy, so you have to help me." She took another bite of the cookie, still holding a hand out imperiously for the glass. "I don't get a puppy before I finish all my summer homework, you know."  


Brendon pushed the glass to her and sighed. "You do know that the 'little boy's name is Isaac, don't you?" he asked, eyes narrowing a bit. He took a sip of the orange soda and made a face. He'd always hated orange flavoured fizzy drinks. He looked back at the plate of cookies, alone on the counter, longingly, before turning back to Keely. "Anyway, wouldn't helping you be, like, cheating or something?" he asked, then chuckled. "You know, when I was your age, I just had a tutor who sat down with me and explained everything," he shrugged.

"I know," Lucía answered. "But he calls me little girl in that really throaty language, and he's way littler than me. And I don't have a tutor to explain everything, so I need others to do it." She glared a little. "And if you don't help me it will be your fault that it'll be longer before I can get a puppy-dog." Her eyes narrowed slightly and she remembered this man declaring that the little boy couldn't come on a walk with her and Uncle Jon, and now he wouldn't help her. Cookies were good, sure, but not  _that_  good. "I'm not sure I like you at all," she declared with a frown and jumped off her chair before reaching up on the table for the soda pop and the half cookie she had left. Then she turned on her heel and made her way back into the living room to continue glaring at the math problems.  


Brendon laughed at the absurdity of being told off by Ryan's daughter. And now she was giving him a good guilt trip, and the only reason Brendon was getting up to follow her was because he didn't want Ryan's daughter to hate him. Quite the opposite, actually, especially if they were going to work out. Sighing heavily, Brendon leaned over her and looked at the problem. "I know seem to remember these from school," he stated. "... These problems are easy, here, I'll give you an example." Plucking the pencil from the table, he wrote slowly on her paper, taking her through the problem one step at a time. "Get it?"

Lucía bit her lip, looking at the problem intently before nodding slowly. "I think so," she muttered, taking the pencil back and imitating what Brendon had done with the next problem. "What about the subtractions?" she asked then, looking up at the man. At least he had caved, but she was still reserving judgement, and if she decided she didn't like him she'd tell Daddy he wasn't good enough, like she had done with that woman a few years ago. She'd never seen the woman again, so she knew it would work.  


Brendon sighed, resigning himself to another problem, just to show her how it was done. "Are you sure you're not just doing this as some sort of twisted test?" he mumbled as he took her through the steps. He wouldn't put it past her to just be doing this for the sake of reaction. She seemed like the type of child to do that. Or, maybe, Brendon was just crap with children on a whole.

"Nuh-uh," Lucía answered, biting her tongue as she imitated Brendon once again, with a bit more difficulty this time. Subtractions were harder than additions. "But I am still trying to figure out if I like you." She looked up with a smile that was maybe a bit more icy than one would expect from a five-year-old. "I love my Daddy very much and he says I'm a very precious girl, so not just anyone is good enough." She laughed, and this time it did sound a bit more genuine. "I like the little boy, though," she declared. "I think I'll keep him." Then she turned back to her math problems, getting through a couple more with quite a bit more ease right now.  


Brendon frowned. "We're a packaged deal," he said, perhaps a bit harsher than he should have. He sighed softly, rubbing a hand over his face. "And I love your daddy very much, too. I have for a very long time," he said quietly, straightening before looking away, trying to get himself under control. He shouldn't let her affect him, but he couldn't help that think that if she didn't like him, Ryan would just put him out on his ass. And he couldn't have that.

Lucía shrugged. "He likes us too, and I think he wants to keep us, so maybe he'd be angry with you if we couldn't keep him at least sometimes," she suggested. "He got very angry when he couldn't go for a walk. Kids don't like to be treated like toys or teddy bears," she explained matter-of-factly. Then she looked up with a small smile. "Maybe loving just Daddy isn't enough," she hinted. "But I do like it best when he's happy," she added, biting her lip in contemplation.

Brendon swore he felt his eye twitch. He wouldn't let her run him off, though she was doing such a good job in trying. Taking a few steps back, Brendon took a deep breath before looking at her again. "Do you understand your problems?" he asked quietly, jaw clenched.

"Yes," she answered with a nod. "Thank you very much," she added. "Now I can have my puppy-dog sooner!" She grinned wide, all thoughts of liking and disliking and being good enough forgotten with that realization. "I can't wait!" she declared, stuffing the rest of her cookie into her mouth and chewing it quickly before swallowing. "Thank you, Mr. Brendon."  


"You're... welcome," Brendon said, then hesitated for only a second before leaving and hurrying up to Jenn's room. "She's trying to get rid of me!" he hissed the moment he closed the door behind him. Jenn looked up, wearing a pair of thin, black, reading glasses and frowns. "Do you know what she said to me?! She said 'maybe loving just daddy isn't enough.' I mean, please!" he stumbled to the bed and flopped down onto it, burying his face in his hands. Moments later, he felt the bed dip as Jenn sat beside him.

"Darling, it's only to be expected. Look how well Ryan is doing with your son, and have you shown any sign of even tolerating that poor little girl?" she asked reasonably, eyeing him reproachfully when he pulled his hands away from his face. Frowning, Brendon shrugged and sighed.

"But she hates me," he whined, though it sounded like an excuse, even to himself. Jenn chuckled softly and shook her head.

"You have to make an effort, darling. Or this isn't going to work. In fact, you have to go above and beyond. Because I can assure you that, with the way Ryan cares so fiercely of Keely, he's not going to stand for you simply tolerating her."


	22. Chapter 22

"Did you see how absolutely breathtaking the architecture is?" Jenn asked wistfully, a far away look in her eyes. She was carrying Isaac in her arms and holding Brendon's hand rather tightly. "Reminds me of Paris," she said, sounding only the tiniest bit sad, now, and she smiled down at Isaac when he chanted  _Paris!_  over and over again. She'd been gushing the whole three hours they'd been out, sight-seeing, after having eaten at a small cafe. Brendon smiled at her and nodded, kissing her cheek impulsively before knocking on Ryan's front door. They were staying here, but he thought it only polite that they not just traipse into his house whenever they wanted.  
  
"You're killing my hand, you know," he said quietly, his smile strained now. Jenn giggled girlishly and nodded. "Kind of reminds me of when you went into labour," he said after a few seconds. Jenn sent him a scathing look, but didn't answer. And didn't let go of his hand, instead squeezing it tighter. It was something she did when she was overwhelmed, or in pain, or just very happy. Brendon let her.

Lucía heard the knocking and shot up from her seat on the couch in front of the TV, jumped down and scurried through the house before she opened the front door with a smile, the expression turning into a grin when she locked eyes with Jenn. "Dinner isn't really ready." She scrunched up her nose. "Or started. If you want something from the fridge or the freezer, that's fine, but I think we should order out," she stated, feeling very important to be the one to tell  _grown-ups_  these things. "Daddy's gone into his head, and we can't disturb him. He has to come out himself," she added, lowering her voice conspiratorially.

Brendon smiled at her before slipping past her into the house. He watched Jenn gush about the sight-seeing they'd done,  _again_ , with Keely, and rolled his eyes. "Well, what does everyone want to eat, then?" he asked as he took off his jacket and watched Isaac slide out of Jenn's arms to march over to him. He struggled a bit with his sleeves, and Brendon helped him take off his shoes before leading him towards the kitchen.

Jenn took off her own sleek, black jacket and kicked off her heels. "Your daddy's gone into his head, has he?" she asked, hoping the girl would give more of an explanation. Since she didn't know Ryan very well, only through Brendon, she had no clue what this could possibly mean.

"It means he'll probably write five full chapters or the lyrics to a whole album in just one day," Lucía answered, with a shrug. "But he kind of forgets the world when that happens, so you have to be really quiet when you're by his study because he startles easily when he's in his head." She reached up and took the woman's hand, leading her into the kitchen after Mr. Brendon and the little boy. "He gets sick when you don't let him come out of it on his own. I did it once, when Uncle Jon was visiting, and Daddy cried and couldn't breathe right and I think he was sick all over the place, but Uncle Jon took me into my bed. I was really scared, especially because Uncle Jon couldn't stay with me. And it lasted longer than it usually did, so Uncle Jon had to get doctors and pills, and Daddy was really tired and stayed in his bed for days, so I haven't done it again. I'm a big girl now, and I know he needs to get out of it himself. If you guys weren't here I would've called my sitter, because it can last really long and I can't cook on my own, but I'm big enough to call my sitter." She smiled proudly, not really that concerned. It was just one of Daddy's little quirks, and as long as she was quiet and didn't go into the study, everything would be fine, she knew.

"Well, we'd better be extra quiet, then, shouldn't we?" Jenn asked, storing the story away so that she could tell Brendon later. He'd need to know about this. She didn't think he could handle it if he made such a big mistake with Ryan, and his daughter would not approve at all. Following the girl to the kitchen, she spotted Brendon by the phone and shrugged. "Does everyone like Chinese?" she asked, looking down at Keely. She was more concerned about what she and her father liked, since she already knew what Isaac did and didn't eat.  


"Fried rice and chicken for me, noodles and shrimp with soy for Daddy," she answered automatically. "We'll just put Daddy's in the fridge," she added, once again feeling very proud and grown-up for being able to take care of the things her Daddy couldn't right at the moment. She looked directly at Isaac. "You can't make a lot of noise, little boy," she told him seriously. "We have to be quiet like mice, all right?"

Isaac looked up, an interested gleam in his eyes, at being called 'little boy'. He wasn't that little, was he? He pressed an index finger against his mouth and grinned before letting his hand fall and sticking out his tongue. Brendon ran an absent hand through his hair as he picked up the phone. "Isaac has experience in being quiet; I'm sure it'll be fine." he mumbled before putting down the phone, looking sheepish. "I don't even have a number," he chuckled, feeling slightly ridiculous. "Do you, er, have the number somewhere, or have a phone book..?"

"There are food numbers on the fridge," Lucía informed. "And Uncle Jaken's number and my sitter's number. Because I can make phone calls, I just don't remember the numbers very well." She bit her lip slightly. "I think we should put the chicken away or it will be bad and we can't eat it anymore," she added, pointing towards the whole chicken that was already stuffed and ready to be put in the oven, on the kitchen counter. Daddy would be really embarrassed once he came back, she knew, but if you hugged him a lot and kissed his cheeks he would be fine again.

Jenn chuckled and nodded. "You're right, of course," she said, moving forward to take care of the chicken as Brendon scanned the fridge for the right number and picked up the phone. She listened to him order and give the address and house number before thanking the person on the other end and hanging up. Placing the chicken in the fridge, she smiled at him crookedly before turning to the children. "Well, I'm sure we have time to spare before the food arrives, so why don't we go into the living room and be very quiet while we wait for supper? In about half an hour you two can wash up and we'll set the table, alright?" she asked, and smiled when Isaac nodded eagerly. "The doorbell shouldn't disturb your father, right?"

"Not if we only let it ring once," Lucía reassured confidently. "He usually has just a bit of music on."

***

"God, I'm so full," Brendon complained as they made their way to the living room after dinner. "I'm going to explode," he whined, plopping down into one of the armchairs and groaning. Jenn sat on the couch opposite him and laughed softly. Isaac, who'd been very quiet throughout dinner, just as requested, climbed onto the chair with Brendon, sitting down heavily against his father and eliciting another groan from the man.  


"Well, if you hadn't made a complete pig of yourself," Jenn suggested, a grin on her lips. Brendon sent her a glare, but didn't respond. He knew it was true.

"When it's Chinese you have to make a pig of yourself," Lucía piped up, more interested, really, in getting her own opinion out than in supporting Mr. Brendon. "That's what Daddy always says, although then he usually ends up saying that his metabolism is slowing down so he really should watch it." She shrugged. "I don't really know what that means," she admitted.  


Brendon laughed, despite himself, though made sure to keep it quiet. "I don't think your father will ever have to worry about gaining weight," he said, still chuckling. "Me, on the other hand. Well, my-- butt is huge," he shook his head, winking at Jenn, who'd thrown her head back to laugh before looking at him again.

"I won't even go there," she muttered, though she remembered many times in the past when she'd told Brendon how jealous she was of his ass. He could put most girls to shame with it, really. She'd always been surprised men weren't lining up for a night with him.

Lucía shrugged. "He's a little bit softer than he was when I was little," she informed. "It's okay, though," she quickly added. "Cuddling is nicer when there aren't bones everywhere." She went across the room and started rummaging through some drawers. "He says in our family we take ages to grow into our bodies," she added with a small giggle. "But I don't think I'm  _that_  bony." Finally she pulled a box out, holding it triumphantly to her chest. "Puzzle!" she exclaimed excitedly, grinning, before moving to lay it out on the floor, looking up at the little boy with a smile.  


Isaac scrambled off the chair and sat on the floor, grinning. He loved puzzles! He looked back at his father, content when the man smiled down at him, and then looked up at his Matante, flashing her his small teeth when he grinned again. "I can play!" he said, stating the question instead of asking it.  


Nodding wildly, Lucía grinned back. "Puzzles aren't very fun all alone," she stated seriously, finding a corner piece and putting it on the floor before looking around for the next one.  


Isaac giggled and started rummaging through the pieces, randomly testing some of them to the piece Keely had laid out. His bottom lip stuck between his teeth, he adopted a look of intense concentration that made Brendon smile softly. Jenn stood from the couch suddenly, walking over to Brendon. "I need to continue researching for that case," she told him, kissing his cheek before heading upstairs, making sure to be very quiet. Brendon sat back in the chair and sighed, listening to his son's soft giggles every now and then.

***

Ryan's fingers suddenly stopped on the keyboard and for the first time in he had no clue how long, his mind felt empty. He had to take a few deep breaths to get properly out of the deep kind of writing mode he'd been in. Usually, when he wrote, it was just casual, a special mood but nothing that special. Once every few weeks or so, though, he'd get completely caught up in it, forgetting time and space and everything except what he was writing. He felt a little bad about it, really, because it wasn't something that was proper for the single parent of young child, but to properly prevent it he would have to stop writing entirely and he didn't think that was something he could ever actually bring himself to do. And Lucía seemed to have adjusted pretty well over the years. A growl emitted from his stomach and he looked up at the clock. It was nearing three in the morning, so he must've been out of it for over twelve hours. No wonder he was hungry and in desperate need of the bathroom. He got up with a groan, joints aching at being used after so long in the same position, and made his way to the bathroom to take care of his business.

When he came back out he realized he'd forgotten about the dinner he'd been planning to make and that he'd left his guests with nothing to eat and... he groaned again, feeling supremely embarrassed now. Bad host, anyone? Grimacing, he made his way down the hall and into the kitchen where he opened the fridge, sighing in relief when he realized that the chicken had at least been put in and could still be used the following day, and that there was even something for him to eat. He pulled out the Chinese and put it in a microwave bowl before setting it to heat and grabbing a beer to go with it, sitting down at the table to wait.   


The moment Brendon heard something in the hallway, he leapt out of bed and opened the door in time to see Ryan heading downstairs. Rubbing his eyes, because he, like any normal person,  _had_  been sleeping, he pulled up his loose pajama pants and headed downstairs, uncaring of the fact that he was wearing a loose, old, ripped t-shirt that probably looked horrible on him. Following the smell of food, he made his way to the kitchen, where he leaned against the doorway and smiled at Ryan. "Someone's up late," he mumbled, voice thick with sleep.

Ryan looked up and blushed slightly at the teasing observation. And, of course, the fact that he'd only ever really heard that voice when they'd fallen asleep together and woken up the same way. "I guess I got a little lost," he mumbled as he opened the beer and took a deep swallow, sighing at the way it felt to finally have liquid, cool at that, running down his parched throat. The microwave dinged and he got up to take the food out, grabbing utensils from the drawer and sitting back down. "Do you want anything?" he asked, his stomach giving another rumble, and he quickly took a bite in an attempt to pacify it.  


Brendon chuckled and shook his head, pushing away from the entrance and taking a seat opposite Ryan. "No. I, like anyone sane, ate hours ago," he assured, giving Ryan a lopsided smile. "It's a good thing Keely knows how to take such good care of you," he added dryly. "Or we would have had a slight problem on our hands, on top of not knowing what you would eat," he bit his lip and looked away, almost amazed, suddenly, at how well Keely knew her father. But, he figured, that was what happened when people lived together and depended on each other. He wondered if Isaac would be like that, but somehow, couldn't see it happening.

"She is," Ryan agreed softly, taking another bite, chewing and swallowing. "Even back when she was a baby and I should've been the one taking care of her." He chuckled wryly. "Truth is," he stated. "She saved me. With all the shit I was doing back then I'm not sure where I'd have been today at all if she hadn't come into my life. Not anywhere pleasant, I can assure you." He took a sip of his beer, slowing down a little on his intake now that the worst edge of hunger had mostly passed. "I'm amazed at how well she turned out, but I'm definitely giving a lot of credit to Jon," he admitted. "He was the one capable of being an adult in that situation. I panicked and lied to myself and broke down and had no idea what to do. As horrible as it is, I'll admit that I was about the worst father you could imagine for a couple of months there."  


"I wouldn't blame you. It was hard enough having a child when I expected it and thought I was prepared, but--" Brendon sighed and shrugged. "I can't even imagine how hard it must have been," he bit his lip before looking up at Ryan and smiling softly, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. Taking a deep breath, he spoke. "I don't think she likes me," he whispered, dropping his gaze to look at the table. "I don't-- think she approves," he added. He knew that this could make up Ryan's mind, and it made him angry that this could be one of the turning points. Angry at himself, mostly, for being unable to open up to someone new, even a child. He was pathetic.

Ryan sighed slightly, putting down his beer and reaching out to cover Brendon's hand with his own. "Don't treat her too much like a child," he suggested. "She's a lot smarter and more mature than her age and size would make you think." He sucked in a deep breath. "And try to be interested in what she has to say, what she wants to do, but also to talk about what you like to do and what you're interested in. She likes the thought of helping people even though she can't do much yet. I'm sure she'd like to hear about the charity." He bit his lip slightly, feeling dread settle tight and heavy in his stomach. "But she is the most important person in the world to me and I have to put her first. If by the end of this visit you still don't get along with her, then... I don't really see a future for us." His voice had gone incredibly soft and he was looking down at his food, not feeling so hungry anymore. He'd really not been aware that he'd gotten so attached to Brendon and Isaac already, but just thinking about having to end things now that they finally seemed to be going right hurt him to no end. But he knew his priorities, and no matter how much the thought of parting hurt him, he refused to be one of those parents who put themselves first and placed their child in a situation they would hate, forcing step families on them and pushing them away in the process. That thought was even harder to bear than that of going his separate ways from Brendon once more. 

Brendon covered his face with his hands, shaking his head forcefully. He couldn't leave Ryan for good, he couldn't. Drawing in a sharp breath, he swallowed down the urge to cry, closing his eyes against the tears, before letting his hands fall back to the table and nodding. "I want her to like me," he said. "So much! I just feel like she doesn't want me here, but maybe-- maybe that's just me, right? Maybe I just have to try harder and- and I'll do anything, Ryan. Anything," he whispered, pleading, now. He was already making plans to talk to her, maybe spend some time alone with her, try to get to know her. If he could do that, everything would be okay. They were on familiar ground, after all. They both loved Ryan and just wanted to see him happy. What more did they need? He bit his lip and looked away, breathing loudly through his nose. She had to like him. She had to. He  _needed_  Ryan.

"You need to like her back," Ryan stated softly, leaning in without a second thought to wrap his arms around the younger man and holding him close, stroking random circles on his back with long fingers. "She has this... eerie ability to pick up on it when people don't. She generally likes everyone, unless they do something she doesn't like or she senses that they don't like her." He sighed and pressed a small kiss against the top of Brendon's head. "I don't expect you to ever love her as much as you love Isaac, or the same way, but you and I are both package deals. We come with our kids, not separately, and for this to work... You can't see her as some random annoyance or an obstacle you have to overcome. Tell me..." He sucked in a deep breath, squeezing his own eyes shut. "Can you see yourself, somewhere down the line, loving my daughter?"  


Brendon leaned into Ryan, burying his face in his neck and breathing harshly still. He agreed with everything Ryan said, and he was so glad that Ryan and Isaac were getting to know each other, and getting along so well. He knew it would be harder with Keely, because she was older, and more perceptive, and so protective of her father, but he wanted it. At the last question, though, he pulled back so that he could look at Ryan, cupping the man's face in his hands. "She's part of  _you_ , Ryan," he said, smiling softly, though his eyes were still wet with unshed tears. "She means so much to you, she's the-- the love of your life," his voice broke and he took a deep breath to reign himself in. "Of course I can," he finally said, and he knew that he meant it with every fibre of his being. He hoped that Ryan could see that. 

A small smile settled over Ryan's features and he felt hope chase away the swirling pain in his chest. "Then everything will be fine," he whispered, one hand rising to settle on Brendon's cheek, thumb stroking gently. "Trust me," he added, voice gone even softer, and then he leaned in and pressed their lips together, lingering this time, and giving Brendon a chance to react.    


Brendon smiled into the kiss, unable to stop himself as he slid his hands into Ryan's hair and pressed against him firmly. He'd almost forgotten how good it felt to kiss Ryan, really kiss him, but suddenly the memories were all coming back. The good times rose to the surface, because the bad times didn't matter right now, and he would be happy if they never mattered again. They were moving on, and everything would be fine, because he  _did_  trust Ryan, and he would make an effort with his daughter. How could he not?

Ryan sighed into the kiss, eyes falling shut once more as he caressed the younger boy's lips with his own. It felt amazing, oddly like he'd been lost and then found again. It felt like... home, he realized as his fingers ran back and forth over Brendon's lightly stubbled cheek, the other holding onto his back firmly. He breathed through his nose, revelling in the rush that came with it all; not a wild rush, but a gentle, sweet one, one that made him feel safe and cared for in a way he couldn't remember ever happening before. He opened his mouth slightly, hesitantly, leaving Brendon to decide what to do with the opening and felt ridiculously like an inexperienced, stupid teenager although he had been well out of his teens when he'd gotten his first kiss. He dismissed the thoughts, though. Right now wasn't where they belonged.  


Brendon opened his own mouth against Ryan's, flicking his tongue against his bottom lip before slipping it inside to tangle with Ryan's. He moaned softly, almost shocked by the fact that this was his first open-mouthed kiss since that Christmas with Ryan, and unbelievably happy with the fact that it was so much better this time because they were both put back together, both more or less in charge of their lives, and both comfortable with each other. He shifted closer, bringing his hands back to cup Ryan's face again, rubbing his thumbs across the man's cheeks over and over. It was almost surreal, to have waited for something for so long, and to finally be getting it. He pulled back for a second, just enough time to gasp for breath before leaning in again, his eyes closed and a look of concentration furrowing his brows.

Ryan was lost in it, could feel small moans building in his throat, and he was a little too aware of the fact that his tongue seemed to have grown a direct connection to his cock and that with every stroke, every suck, his pants were growing tighter. He finally pulled away a little, leaning his face into the hold of Brendon's hand as he gasped softly for air. He didn't want to stop it, he really didn't. But he also wanted to savour this as something special, to take one small step at a time. Maybe he was being overly cautious, but he didn't believe rushing into anything would be good for either of them, and if they didn't stop now it would be infinitely harder to do later. "I missed that," he murmured after a while, a relaxed, slightly tired smile settling on his face and showing that he genuinely meant it.  


Brendon chuckled breathlessly and leaned his forehead against Ryan's. "So did I," he whispered, grinning. He gave Ryan another peck before pulling away completely, letting his hands fall to his sides. "We should probably, um... go to bed," he said, feeling a bit awkward and sad at the same time that he couldn't just follow Ryan into his room. Reluctantly, he stood, running a hand through Ryan's hair, and smiled. "See you.. in a few hours," he said, and left the room, walking slowly to his bedroom and thanking God that Jenn wasn't waiting up for him this time. He couldn't talk right now, just grin goofily. The moment his head hit the pillow, Brendon was asleep.  
  


***

It was nearly noon when Ryan woke up, and he couldn't help but feel a little bad once again at how poor a host he was being, but he didn't imagine he'd be much better dead on his feet from lack of sleep either. He showered and dressed a bit more quickly than he normally would before heading down to fix himself some breakfast, eyes and ears strained in an attempt to figure out where everyone was and what they were doing.

"I want to swing!" Isaac was shrieking from the living room, despite Jenn trying to quiet him down. He was jumping on the couch, much to Brendon's despair, and was threatening to yell or cry any second. "I want to swing!" he cried again, and Brendon caught him mid-air, pulling him away from the couch and setting him firmly on his lap.

"You will stop that screaming right now, mister," he warned, staring down at Isaac sternly. His son, though, merely screamed again and started to kick his legs against Brendon's thighs.

Ryan followed the sounds into the living room, smiling in amusement at the scene. "Luce, why don't you show them the playground while I get something to eat?" he asked with a grin. "The weather's a lot better today, and I'll help you out with your homework later this afternoon if you haven't done it yet."

Lucía nodded wildly, grinning broadly. "We have the most awesome playground, just a block down, in the park," she stated excitedly, looking expectantly at the others. "Can we please go? Please?"  


"I'll take you," Brendon said immediately, getting up as Isaac slid to the floor, having finally stopped screaming. "Not that Isaac should be rewarded for having such a fit, but... I'll go," he finished, taking a deep breath and sending a look Jenn's way that warned her against stepping in. She narrowed her eyes for a moment before nodding.

"Yes, I have a case I should be working on..." she said before ruffling Keely's hair a bit. She kissed the top of Isaac's head, Brendon's cheek, and waved at Ryan before heading upstairs. Brendon looked at the two children with a wide grin, telling himself that he could most definitely do this and that nothing would go wrong.

Lucía squealed in joy at getting to go to one of her favourite places in her hometown, bouncing slightly on her feet. "Thank you!" she exclaimed loudly, her opinion of Mr. Brendon vastly improved already.

Ryan laughed at his daughter's antics, shaking his head slightly. "Lucía, you need to promise me to do as Brendon says and to hold his hand when you cross the big road, all right?" He paused to wait for the dutiful nod that came a moment later before turning to Brendon. "I might come join you once I've eaten," he stated. "Have fun." And with that he turned and made for the kitchen.  


"Alright," Brendon said, beckoning the children to follow him to the entrance. "I'm sure you can put on your shoes without my help," he stated, looking at Keely questioningly. When she nodded as though it were the most obvious thing in the world, he chuckled and helped Isaac put on his shoes and jacket, before doing the same himself. "Now, you're going to have to take the lead and show us where this park is," he told Keely, hoisting Isaac into his arms. "But remember what your dad said when you get to crossing the street." He opened the door and ushered her out, then followed her, making sure to stay only a step behind her.

Lucía nodded brightly and started skipping the familiar way down the sidewalk towards the park, stopping by the crossing as she had been instructed and held Mr. Brendon's hand as they walked over the road before leading the guests into the park where she resumed skipping along the paths until they reached the playground where she let out another squeal and ran off in the direction of the slide.  


Isaac screeched when he caught sight of the park and wriggled around until Brendon let him go. He ran to the swings, kicking up sand as he went, and giggled loudly, his hair flying in the wind. When he was unable to lift himself into the swing, Brendon picked him up and set him in it, then gave him a small push, grinning when Isaac giggled infectiously again. He looked over at the structure, making sure to keep an eye on Keely, as well. "If you want to swing, I can push you," he called, just so that she would know. Plus, it would be easier to have her closer.

Finishing climbing onto the structure, Lucía flashed her companions a bright smile before pushing herself down the slide, squealing as she went and landing perfectly upright on both feet before she hurried in their direction, climbing onto a swing and kicking her legs. "Yes, please," she answered, laughing a little. She was just really happy! She always was when she got to use the playground.  


"Alright," Brendon chuckled, pushing her in time with Isaac, though with more force. She was older, able to hang on properly, and had probably been here a million times. Isaac, on the other hand, was only used to the baby swings, where he was safely tied in with no chance of falling. "You know, when I was young, I used to have a playground somewhat like this one in my backyard, and I wanted to play in it almost everyday," he said, smiling wistfully as he remembered Grace Cottage. He'd spent every happy day of his childhood there, though he remembered being at the castle a lot, as well.  


"A playground in the backyard must be absolutely brilliant," Lucía managed to get out in between giggles and squeals, her stomach fluttering pleasantly as the height got greater. "You must have been really rich," she added. "Daddy's got lots of money but I don't get my own playground."  


Brendon chuckled uncomfortably, cursing himself for having mentioned it. "I-- uh... well, I was rather rich. But having your own playground just makes you spoiled," he said, giving her another push. "Isaac doesn't have his own playground, either," he added, hoping that was good. He didn't know if Ryan had told Keely about his past, or who he was, but if he hadn't, he didn't think he should be the one to enlighten her.

"I think Daddy would say that too," Lucía agreed, hands clenching on as she went higher and faster, enjoying it to the core of her being. "We'll just have to keep coming here, then," she declared, letting out another laugh as her stomach surged and tickled, her pigtails flying into her eyes.  


Brendon chuckled and nodded. "That's probably because he knew me while I lived in the cas-- uh. Well, anyway. Your daddy's right." He cleared his throat uncomfortably, giving Isaac a small push when he started to slow down and whine. He was kicking his feet, which wasn't doing much good to his swinging, but seemed to be enjoying himself nonetheless.

Lucía's brow furrowed in thought as she tried to figure out what Mr. Brendon hadn't quite said, but another brilliant surge in her stomach sort of halted it and she let out another squeal. "Daddy's almost always right," she declared. "He's the cleverest man in the whole world!"  


"Of course he is," Brendon answered wryly, wishing Isaac spoke this highly about him, then laughing at the thought. Isaac didn't really speak of anyone, so why should it be any different with his father? Actually, he spoke of Jenn quite a lot, but...

"Look at these two beautiful children," a voice that Brendon didn't recognize suddenly spoke up from somewhere very near and he looked up to find a woman standing nearby. An older woman, with a pale pink hat on top of her white as snow hair, and a cane in one hand. Brendon blushed, but smiled proudly as she continued. "Such beautiful eyes, both of them... and look at her hair! Makes her look like a little angel," she crooned before looking up at Brendon. "Oh, you must be so proud of your children," she said knowingly.

Brendon blushed and stuttered and shook his head a bit. "I, uh-- we-well, not--"

"Doggie!" Isaac shrieked, pointing to the tiny dog sitting next to the lady, and his moment of preciousness was obviously broken. Brendon sighed, plastering on a smile for the woman, and tried to calm Isaac down.

Lucía smiled winningly at the lady, very proud at being called an angel. Only her Daddy and her uncles had ever called her that, never a stranger. And she did think it was a little bit amusing that the situation had been misunderstood. The swing had slowed down, and she looked over at the little boy with a small frown. "You don't like doggies?" she asked.  


The lady smiled and took a step closer, her small, white dog following obediently. Brendon had lifted Isaac off the swing, but he was still chanting  _Doggie, doggie, doggie_  rather loudly. He looked over at Keely and smiled reassuringly. "No, the problem is, he likes dogs  _too_  much," he explained, and then finally went to crouch down next to the woman, Isaac flailing in his arms. He beckoned Keely over. "Ask the lady if you can pet him," he warned both the children, though he had a feeling only Isaac needed it. The woman chuckled delightedly and assured them that petting was quite alright. Taking Isaac's hand in his, he pulled it closer to the dog, allowing him to sniff Isaac before letting his son pat the dog on the head. "There we go," he mumbled.

"That's good," Lucía informed. "Because I'm having a puppy-dog." Then she crouched down too and held her hand out for the dog to smell, giggling slightly at the lick she received in response before scratching it behind the ears and stroking its back gently, smiling at the soft fur beneath her fingers. She really did love doggies a lot, and she couldn't  _wait_  until she finished her homework and Daddy finally let her have one.  


Brendon smiled apologetically at the woman, but she seemed perfectly at ease with letting the kids pet her dog. When she started leaning on her cane rather heavily, though, Brendon pulled back with Isaac, giving him a look that broached no argument, and sighed. "Well, I think we should let the lady be on her way, right Keely?" he asked carefully, and was glad to see the woman look slightly relieved, despite the smile on her face.

Lucía nodded and stood back up. "Have a nice day," she said politely, offering another smile. Then she looked up at Mr. Brendon. "Will you push the merry-go-round, Mr. Brendon? Please?" she asked, jutting out her lower lip.  


Brendon barked out a laugh, nodding his farewell to the lady, then looked down at Keely. "Just Brendon, if you're going to call me anything. You make me feel old with the 'mister'," he said, then started towards the merry-go-round. The things had always made him sick to his stomach, but if she liked them, well... He put Isaac down and instructed him to sit on the round platform and to  _hang on_. He then helped Keely on, warning her to hang on tightly as well, before grabbing onto the railing and starting to jog. As he picked up speed, so did the merry-go-round, until finally he could let go and watch from a few feet away, as the thing spun round and round.

Squealing and laughing, Lucía clung on as best as she could, loving the tickling feeling in her stomach and the wind whipping all around her. They were going  _so fast_ , and she absolutely loved it, giggling through her pouting when it slowed down. "Funfunfun!" she cried, eyes wide and happy. "Againagain!"

Brendon did as he was told, though he starting to feel sick just looking at them, but Keely was giggling and smiling and Isaac had thrown his head back and was grinning, as well. So it was worth it. He just hoped he wouldn't start throwing up, that his stomach was stronger than that, because if he threw up over some children's toy in front of his son and Ryan's daughter, well-- he'd never live it down.

***  


Jenn snuck back downstairs when she heard Brendon leave. That asshole knew she had finished her work, but of course he'd send her running upstairs with just a glare. She'd changed into a pair of tight fitting jeans and a tanktop, letting her long hair down for the first time since they'd got here. She really just felt like having a drink and relaxing. She made her way to the living room, looking for Ryan so that she could ask where he kept his liquor-- it was after twelve, at least-- but when she didn't find him there, she made her way to the kitchen, where he was eating his breakfast.

"Hey," she greeted, leaning against the doorway and smiling.

Ryan looked up from his cereal with a smile. "Hi," he returned, yawning just slightly. "Didn't you have research?"  


"No," she grumbled, coming in to sit at the table. She tossed her hair over her shoulder and sighed. "Brendon wanted some time alone with the kids, and obviously if I had work to do Keely wouldn't ask me to come..." she trailed off and shrugged. "Not that she would have asked me, but just in case," she explained. "Or, Brendon's just odd. Whichever," she chuckled.

Laughing slightly, Ryan shook his head. "She would've," he assured. "But I think Brendon probably made the right decision. Lucía was really beginning to dislike him, and he took the first chance he got to turn the situation around before it got out of hand. His attitude doesn't always show that he was raised to be a certain kind of diplomat, but a lot of his decisions do." He scooped up another scoopful and washed it down with a mouthful of orange juice. "So, how are you liking England so far?"  


Jenn chuckled and nodded. "Oh, yes, he's quite the diplomat when he wants to be," she agreed dryly. "I like it here, though it makes me long for Paris," she sighed. "I haven't been since my school years, you know, but it's so close, now, and... well, I've been trying to convince Brendon to come to Paris with me, or at least let me take Isaac, but he's always using The Charity Excuse," she chuckled, then looked towards the fridge. "And... I'm pretty sure I saw beer in that fridge," she stated, standing up. "Would you mind?"

"Not at all," Ryan answered. "So long as I don't have to get any yet. It would make me feel a bit like an alcoholic to drink with breakfast." He took the last scoop before pushing the bowl away, full. "It's only a drive away, Paris," he added. "A few hours, nothing bad. We can head down one day, stay the night in a hotel and come back the day after. Would give us enough time to see some of the sights at least although it's better outside of season. It's got to be swimming with tourists now, but when Lucía and I went back in March it was lovely, and warm enough that we didn't have to wear coats." He smiled lightly. "It's beautiful down there, but not as much as Spain."  


"We'll have to agree to disagree on that one," Jenn replied with a wink, grabbing one of the bottles of beer and twisting the cap off with some difficulty. She took a swig from it and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.  Sitting back down, she gave him a smile. "I'd love to go down, by the way. Thank you for offering," she said quietly. "So," she started, taking another swig. "You knew Brendon when he was ... an even bigger spoiled brat than he is now," she stated, giving him a grin.

Ryan rolled his eyes slightly, but nodded. "That description barely even scrapes it," he stated dryly, taking another swallow of his juice. "His major difficulty was looking past his own nose. But I can't really blame him. He was very young and the situation was horrible to begin with." He shrugged. "It suits him better to have left most of that behind, though. Hopefully he's over himself for it not to tear us apart this time." He sighed and shook his head slightly. "Depressing story, really," he added. "You don't want to hear it, trust me on that."

Jenn chuckled. "I've heard bits and pieces here and there," she admitted. "But I'm not really sure it's my place to even ask for the full story. I'm just here because he wanted a son, and I gave him that son," she smiled bitterly, looking up at Ryan. "Does that make me pathetic?" she asked quietly. "Having a baby with a man who doesn't love me, and then not being able to let that baby go, even though I promised to stay out of his life?" She scoffed and shook her head. "You never know you're going to love a baby before you hold it in your arms and realize that it's yours, for the first time. When Isaac was born, I had every intention of leaving both him and Brendon behind, never to think of them again. But a few months later, Brendon invited me to see him, and..." she chuckled softly. "Well, the rest is history. And now I pretend that I'm his aunt."

Scoffing, Ryan shook his head. "I would think you more pathetic if you had been able to just leave them behind," he stated. "And at least he will have you in his life, even if he never knows who you actually are. Lucía... her best friend is the son of a lesbian couple." He chuckled slightly, but it wasn't a particularly pleased sound. "So that she can borrow a mother if she needs one." He sighed. "I hated Miriam for so long, but these days I just feel contempt for her. And pity, maybe, for choosing to miss out on something as wonderful as my little girl."  


Jenn shook her head in disappointment. "I don't know how a mother can just abandon their child like that. Even with Brendon, I knew that Isaac was going to have a loving father, two loving uncles, and everything he could dream of. But I couldn't just leave him," she smiled a little. "I pity that woman, as well. Keely is a beautiful child, intelligent and well brought up. You've done really well. I think... maybe it's best that she was left with you, because she could have turned out very differently with a mother like that," she shrugged, taking another sip of beer. "And if she ever wants to call, or-- or anything, really, I'll leave my number when we go," she offered, hoping it wasn't stepping over the line too much. But she'd grown rather fond of Keely, even just in the couple of days she'd been here.

"I think she'd like that very much," Ryan stated. "And I'm very grateful I got her." He shrugged slightly. "As I've said maybe too many times, I have no idea where I'd have been without her, but I don't think it would've been a very good place at all. And I love her more than I think I could ever really explain." He looked down, inspecting his own hands. He'd have to cut his nails soon. They were getting a bit long. "My two regrets about Lucía is how I was for the first while I had her with me, and the fact that I've never given her siblings. They're supposed to be healthy for a kid, and I remember how lonely I sometimes was growing up without any."  


"Well, I'm sorry darling, but I don't see men being able to carry children any time soon," Jenn chuckled, shaking her head. "And there's always Isaac," she said, and immediately cursed herself. "Not that-- not that you and Brendon are, um, together... or anything, but..." she trailed off, looking down at the table and taking a sip from her bottle. She'd obviously made a complete ass of herself. "I don't know how you were with her at first, but I can assure you that no parents is prepared for their first child, and I have seen some bad cases where parents were so unprepared that they took it out on their children and that... that is something I would regret. But Keely is healthy, and well, and she loves you. So, you must not have done that bad," she whispered.  
  
Ryan let out a loud burst of chuckle, relieved that some of the sadness seemed to have lifted from the room. "I think we hope to be," he finally stated, once he had calmed down a bit again. "Part of the reason he has to spend time with Luce. They got off on the wrong foot, apparently." He breathed out, calming a bit more. "And you're right. There  _is_  Isaac. Lucía likes him a lot, and from what I can tell it's pretty mutual. There are a lot of things to work through first, though. The distance, the past, each our individual problems. But I think it'll end better this time. Back then I was a lying, treacherous bastard, to put it mildly, and Brendon was conceited and about as spoiled as they come. I wasn't a lot more mature than he was. And five and a half years doesn't make me feel nearly as bad now as it did when he was eighteen." He shrugged, pausing for a bit. "As to when Lucía was a baby... she was three months old when I got her, and I absolutely freaked out. I didn't completely believe she was mine until after the paternity test came through, and Jon had to come help because I was that panicked. I don't think I ever really felt anything but annoyance towards her before she was eight months old." He looked away a little, ashamed. "I give Jon a lot of the credit for how well she turned out. For a long while there, he was the only person in the world who actually cared about her."

Jenn sat forward, leaning on the table. "But you kept her," she said quietly. "That has to be worth something, right?" she sighed softly, remaining silent for a moment before looking down at the table. "For what it's worth, I hope you and Brendon make it. You know how some mothers never think any woman is good enough for their son? I was kind of like that with Brendon for a while, and I kept hearing about you, and I never thought you were good enough. No offence or anything, I didn't know you and I was making a judgement I shouldn't have, but that's the way it was. But I think you're more than good enough for him, now," she smiled. "I pretty much think the two of you are perfect together. I mean, you should see the way he lights up when he talks about you..." she trailed off, smiling wistfully. "It's the way I'd want someone to talk about me." 

Smiling softly, Ryan leaned in over the table to squeeze her shoulder tightly. "Thank you," he muttered. "Believe it or not,  it means a lot to me that you approve. I can see how close you and Brendon are and it would be a right pain to attempt anything if you're against it. All we need is to get Jaken off his macho, over-protective little mode for a while and things should be fine." He chuckled lightly. "And I'm sure you will find someone like that some day. We aren't that old." He winked, taking another sip of his juice. "Although turning thirty was kind of a blow to the ego, wouldn't you say?"  


Jenn threw her head back and laughed, shaking her head when she stopped long enough to look back at Ryan. "It was horrible," she confided. "I yelled at Brendon, walked out of a surprise party, and then refused to talk to him for days," she chuckled. "Next thing you know, you're forty, and your kids are teenagers, and they're being ignorant little brats who think they know everything," she rolled her eyes and chuckled again. "But I think it'll all work out," she finally said, referring both to his and Brendon's relationship, and the children.  

"I hope so," Ryan agreed. "I definitely do."

***

"You're not that bad," Lucía declared as they were walking back, her hand gripping Brendon's tightly. "Just a bit up-tight." She giggled happily, swinging her arms exaggeratedly. Then she looked up at him curiously. "So now I want to know more about you. How old are you? Where do you really live when you don't visit us? What do you do?" She paused for breath and decided to stop speaking, simply cocking a curious eyebrow.

Brendon chuckled and shook his head, swinging both Isaac's and Keely's hand back and forth. "I'm glad you approve... thank you for pointing out how uptight I am. I am younger than your father at twenty-five years old, I live in New York, which is in America, though not by choice, because I was born in Beauregia, and I'd much rather be living there. And I work for my Charity," he said, suppressing a grin. He'd had a feeling this grilling was coming.

"You're very welcome," Lucía answered brightly, flashing a brilliant smile. Then she scrunched up her nose slightly. "That's still very old," she decided before biting her lip a little. "I thought Beauregia didn't exist anymore," she half-stated, half-asked. "Are you old enough that you were born in a country that doesn't exist? And what's your Charity?"  


Brendon drew in a sharp breath and had to force himself to keep walking. He closed his eyes briefly before looking down at Keely and answering. "I lived there until I was eighteen," he said quietly. "A war broke out, and I left my country..." exhaling shakily, he continued, despite the fact that his throat felt like it was closing up. "My Charity helps families that have been torn apart by war, by giving them places to live, food, and all other necessities, including money. We even have a children's center, which Spencer runs, where we take in kids who were orphaned because of the war," he explained quietly.

"Oh," Lucía muttered, very intrigued by it all, but also sensing Brendon's sadness. Why would he be sad when he'd had such an interesting life, though? "Is that the war Daddy was in too?" she asked softly. "He has this scar on his shoulder and he told Uncle Jaken it was a war wound, and Uncle Jaken laughed at him, but he told me it's true. Your work sounds exciting, though." She looked up and gave what she hoped was a supportive smile. "Maybe I could help you sometime. I like helping others."  


"Yes, I was with your dad when he got that war wound," he said, smiling softly. "He was trying to save everyone, as usual," he said wryly. "Just like you, it seems. If you'd like, I could ask Spencer if you could visit the children's center one day," he suggested. "I'm sure that would be fun," he said, though the sentiment felt empty. Ryan wasn't allowed to go back to America, and he doubted he would let his daughter go alone, at least not until she was much older.

"I would like that very much," she answered with a smile. She really wanted to ask about the war. Her Daddy never wanted to tell her anything about it and that just made her the more curious, but maybe Brendon didn't like to talk about it either. "Was it very bad?" she finally settled on asking, as carefully as she knew how.  


Brendon looked up again, staring straight ahead. "It was horrible," he said at last. "Especially because I thought that everything was my fault, and I was worried about my parents, and your dad and I had had a big argument," he explained. "But we got through it. Your dad, your uncle Jon, Isaac's Godfather and I all made it through alive, though probably worse for the wear," he finished, shrugging uncomfortably and suddenly wondering if Isaac understood everything he was saying, or what was going on. He had a feeling, though, that his son understood perfectly well, and was storing the information so that he could ask about it some other time.

"I thought it would be," Lucía stated in almost a whisper. "Daddy won't ever talk about it, and I stopped asking because he made a lot of noise in the night when I did. I think he had bad dreams." Then her curiosity took over a bit again. "Why would a war be your fault?" she asked. "And what did you and Daddy fight about?"  


Brendon sighed heavily. "My father was the king," he said, and left it at that. He wouldn't say any more. "And, listen, darling, if your dad hasn't told you this, I'm not sure that I should either. It's as much his past as it is mine, and I don't want to say something I shouldn't," he paused for a moment, then looked down with a smile. "Maybe we can sit down, just the three of us, and see if he'll want to talk about it?"

Lucía shrugged, grimacing a little. "I don't want to make him sad," she stated. "He was sad a lot when I was little, and that made me sad too. He's a lot happier now and I like that much better, so I don't want to make him sad again. That's why I asked you," she explained before looking up with big eyes. "So you're a  _prince_? Is Daddy a princess then?" She giggled slightly, not really aware that she'd let on the fact that she knew a lot more about what was going on around her than anybody tended to realize.  


Brendon chuckled, trying not to feel sad that he hadn't been there for Ryan when he'd been torn up about the war, when he'd been having flashbacks and just generally been miserable. "I was a prince, yes, but no, that doesn't make your daddy a princess," he said, smiling. "I'm not a prince anymore. I left my country," he stated, and he'd never felt proud of that fact. No matter how much he'd hated being heir to the throne. "And you're right, your dad does get sad when we talk about the war, but sometimes talking about it can help, when you're not being pushed too far."

Shrugging again, Lucía looked down at her sandals. "I just don't want him to be sad again," she said softly. "And he always tried to hide it when he cried but I knew anyway, and I didn't like it. I just really want him to be happy, so I don't want to make him talk about it." She looked up again, meeting Brendon's eyes as they neared the house. "Will you make him happy, Brendon? Pinky-promise?"  


Brendon stopped for a second, and he stared at Ryan's house, trying to think of anything he'd rather do than make Ryan happy. When he could come up with nothing, he looked down at Keely and nodded. "Yes," he said, letting go of her hand so that he could offer her his pinky. "If I knew that living through that war and spending years without seeing him and all of that-- that pain we had to live with.. if I knew that it would end with him being happy, I'd do it all over again. Because I'm not sure I could change any of it. I'm not sure I'd want to. If I had never met your dad.." he trailed off, shaking his head. "I would go through all of that again to make him happy," he whispered.

Lucía smiled brightly and wrapped her own small finger around the offered digit, squeezing before she let go. "Thank you," she said. Then she was silent for a moment, thinking. "You can call me Lucía," she finally offered quietly, a little insecure. "If you want to." Not even her Uncle Jaken called her that, only her Daddy and her Uncle Jon, but Brendon had been with Uncle Jon and Daddy in the war and he promised to take care of Daddy. Uncle Jaken did that too, but not in the same way, she reckoned. She shrugged, flashing another smile before she ran the rest of the way into the front yard and through the door.  


Brendon gaped after her until he felt a small hand tugging at his, urging him towards the house. Snapping himself from his thoughts, he swooped down to pick up Isaac, who giggled at him, not noticing that his dad was possibly having a heart attack, so surprised was he by Keely--  _Luc_ _í_ _a_ 's offer.


	23. Chapter 23

The chicken was on the table, a day belatedly, but at least it finally got made, as did the potatoes and gravy and the dessert for later. Ryan had had a lot of fun making it with Jenn and he was definitely understanding why Brendon had kept her around. It had been years since he'd really made a new friend, sad though that might sound, but this woman definitely had potential. It didn't hurt that she was closer to his own age, at just a couple of months younger, than anyone else close to him. He reached out with a smile and started cutting the chicken, putting the first drumstick automatically on his daughter's plate, followed by a wing. Then he turned to Isaac. "What would you like?" he asked, smiling at the boy.  


Isaac scrunched his nose up as he looked at the chicken, then turned to stare at Ryan. "What is that?" he asked, eyes wide. He looked at his father and Godmother, frowning a bit, and seemed frightened. Brendon sighed, rubbing a hand over his eyes, and then turned to his son. "It's chicken, Isaac. You like chicken, we eat it all the time. This is just... a different way to eat it," Brendon explained, giving him an encouraging smile. Isaac shook his head forcefully.

"Birdie!" he cried, causing Brendon and Jenn to both groan at the same time. It really was not the time for their son to figure out that he was eating animals.  


Jenn reached over and took a hold of Isaac's hand. "Listen, sweetie. This is meat. People eat meat because it's good for their health, and that includes you, alright? Just eat ten bites, okay?" she asked, and smiled when Isaac nodded reluctantly. "Just give him the whitest meat you can find... or give Brendon part of the breast and he can go digging through it," she said, looking over at Ryan and smiling before rolling her eyes a little.

Ryan nodded with an amused smile and cut off half the breast before putting it on Brendon's plate. "And you?" he asked, looking at Jenn even as he kept cutting pieces off so they'd be easier to get for a second serving. He got in all the way to the filling and put a tiny bit of that on Lucía's plate as well before raising an eyebrow at Brendon, waiting for confirmation before giving him some as well.

"Wing," she answered with a wink, watching as Brendon served his son potatoes and then started the task of finding some meat he would eat. "Did you guys have fun at the park?" she asked, smiling when Isaac seemed to brighten. He went on to babble about swings and a doggie, then looked expectantly at Keely for her to fill them in on all the things they had done.

"We used the swings, and Brendon pushed me  _real_  high," Lucía declared with a wide smile. "And then there was a lady who thought Brendon was my Daddy, but she had a really cute doggie, so I didn't tell her she was wrong, and we petted the doggie and played on the merry-go-round and used the slides and we had  _so much fun_." She was nearly squealing by the end of her retelling, grinning wide.

Ryan found himself chuckling amusedly even as he steadily served Jenn the other wing and took a bit of filling and the second half of the chest for himself before helping Lucía with her potatoes and gravy, grinding the potatoes with a fork to get a sort of pseudo mash and mixing it with the gravy the way he knew she preferred it before serving himself. "Sounds like it was a lot of fun," he stated.

"We did. And we had a bit of a talk on our way back," he said, smiling as he winked at Lucía. He was feeling nervous about using her name, now, because he knew how much it meant to Ryan, and he wanted to surprise Ryan by using it, and saying that she had given him the right to say it; the privilege, even, of using the name that she only saved for her father and Godfather. But that made him nervous, because he wasn't sure if the surprise would be good or bad in Ryan's eyes.

Ryan found himself biting his lip a bit nervously, slightly anxious as to how it had gone. But on the other hand Lucía hadn't come raging to him, demanding they get rid of Brendon, so it couldn't have gone too bad. And he still held hopes that it had gone well. He didn't want to have to end this before it had really properly started back up, but for Lucía he would. He just hoped he wouldn't be forced to make that decision. "I'm glad you had a good time," he finally settled on saying.

"Yes," Brendon said quietly, and then hesitated for only a moment before pressing on. "I think... Lucía and I have a lot in common," he stated, giving her a small, shy grin before returning to his meal and cutting off a small piece of chicken to feed to Isaac, who ate it without a word, looking interested in what was going on around him, and uncaring about what went into his mouth.

Feeling confused and slightly apprehensive for a moment, Ryan looked at Lucía who only smiled like nothing strange at all had happened, and then he felt a smile grow on his own face. It had gone more than well, then. He hadn't imagined his daughter would let someone else call her by her middle name, at least not without years of being beyond close to them. Hell, Jaken didn't even get to call her that, and he'd been labeled uncle for nearly as long as Lucía had known him. Ryan had no idea what had turned it all around, but he was beyond grateful, his heart feeling a lot lighter in his chest. "That's very good to hear," he stated genuinely, sending Brendon a grin before he cut off a piece of potato and leading it to his mouth, feeling more content than he had in a long, long time.

Brendon grinned widely, forcefully restraining himself from whooping for joy.

***

Brendon and Isaac decided to pay Ryan and Lucía another visit only three months after they'd come back from their visit to England. They flew to Spain, this time, under the pretense that Brendon wanted to find a villa of his own and Isaac needed more guitar lessons. Brendon  _did_  want to find a villa, he really did, but after three days of doing nothing but looking, he was starting to think that he wouldn't find one suitable.  


"There's nothing," he announced, flopping down onto a chair. They were about to eat dinner together, and they were outside because it was too hot inside. He groaned and rubbed his temples. "And I think I have a headache," he added petulantly, only to have Isaac laugh at him from across the table.

Ryan bit back a laugh, shaking his head slightly. After over a year of living part-time in Spain he was used to the heat, and he luckily didn't get that many headaches from it anymore. And in October, really, it was quite pleasant, but Brendon seemed to have grown accustomed to New York weather too much over the years to be able to stand the southern European climate. "I think your standards are too high," he stated once he was sure he wouldn't laugh. "But maybe I'm just easy to please. This was the first villa I saw down here and I knew it was it immediately. I guess we can't all be that lucky." He was keeping half an eye on the pool where Lucía was playing in the shallow end, ready to jump in with half a second's notice if he were needed, and couldn't help an amused smile when she struggled with a pink blow-up ball that was bigger than she was. 

"Whatever, Mister Found The Perfect House," Brendon said, sticking his tongue out at Ryan, much to Isaac's amusement. "Really, though. The places are either not well taken care of, or are just plain too small," he whined, sitting back in his seat and tilting his head up to stare at the sky. "You know I'm going to get a playground in my backyard right?" he teased. "And then I'll be the most popular daddy in the whoooole town?" he chuckled to himself, knowing he'd never have the guts to do something like that. It was unnecessary, really, but seeing Ryan grow serious was always fun.  


Rolling his eyes slightly, Ryan shook his head. "Playgrounds are supposed to be public," he stated. "It's where you meet other kids and make new friends, not something your dad should own just for your use. Half the point will disappear then. Besides, it wouldn't be good for him." He sighed slightly, biting his lip for a moment. "Don't spoil him Brendon, make him work for what you give him, or he won't know what to do with the real world once he meets it. All you'll teach him is to put himself first and to push people away when he really wants them to be close."  


"I turned out okay," he argued half-heartedly. "And I was kidding. Just wanted to hear you go all parent-y on me," he smiled sweetly and shrugged. "He'd never leave the house, anyway, and I don't think I could deal with that. I think I'm going to have to hire a tutor to live with us if we're going back and forth between New York and here. Which is going to be a pain, really," he sighed and looked over at Isaac, winking. Thank God he seemed not to have heard the playground bit.

"Yeah, you did," Ryan answered softly after a moment's hesitation. "But I hope Isaac will never have to go through the things you did to reach maturity," he added, even more softly, before he took a sip of his piña colada, letting the fresh, sweet taste linger on his tongue for a moment before swallowing. He sighed slightly. "With time I'll probably have to do the same for Luce if we keep going back and forth like we are," he stated. "I don't like it, though. Being around kids her own age is good for her. I don't want to ruin that, or handicap her life because of the structure of mine, but... I guess I'm not exactly sure how to go about it. A tutor in Spain and normal school in England, maybe? Make sure the tutor follows the school curriculum." He shrugged. "I don't know at all. I guess I should just be a better father and start arranging my own life after hers a bit more. But then again, I'm not the only one in love with the Costa Bravo."  


Brendon nodded in agreement, stealing Ryan's piña colada and taking a sip before smacking his lips and smiling. "You'd do her more harm than good by taking away one of her homes," he said, giving Ryan back his drink. "She does love it here, and I think getting her a tutor only for Spain, somehow, would be a really good idea." He paused, looking out to the pool and smiling. "Isaac hates his tutor," he told Ryan, giving his son a stern look, though all he received in return was a wide grin. "Keeps pinching her arms, like I brought him up in a zoo, or something," he grumbled. He ignored the first part of what Ryan had told him, but silently agreed. He would never treat his son like his father had treated him.  


"If I do get a tutor," Ryan said. "I'll have Luce go through the applications and meetings with her. She'd get the right to veto. If she has only one teacher almost half the time, I want her to like the person," he finished, leaning back in his chair and taking his drink back. "I can get Señora Sanchez to make you one too," he offered with a small smile, soaking up the sun the was no longer present in England. There was a long pause where neither of them said anything, just watching their kids and enjoying the weather, the whole atmosphere. "Did you ever open my present?" Ryan suddenly found himself asking, the words leaving his mouth before he'd even had the chance to consciously think them over.

Brendon shifted, suddenly uncomfortable. He shook his head reluctantly. "Um, no, I... kind of just shoved it in the back of my closet and couldn't bear to open it. And then... well, I didn't really think about it after that," he said, grimacing. He felt horrible for having forgotten a present Ryan had given him! God, he was such a bad person.

"Don't worry about it," Ryan muttered, fighting down a bit of disappointment. "I understand." He sucked in a breath and forced his face to form a small smile, sucking up another mouthful of piña colada from his nearly empty glass. "Just... take a look at it when you get the chance?"  


"Of course," Brendon breathed. "Of course. I'm sorry, God, I can't believe I forgot it, I'm such an idiot sometimes," he sighed heavily and leaned back again, looking up when Isaac shrieked. "Want to go in the water!" his son yelled, and Brendon rolled his eyes. "No you don't," he said tiredly, only to have Isaac drum his feet against the chair.

"Yes I do," he argued, and Brendon groaned.

"But that would mean I have to go in the water," he whined, smiling when Isaac giggled loudly. When it died down, though, his son was still pointing towards the pool and looking at him expectantly. "Fine," he grumbled, looking over at Ryan and shrugging sheepishly. "Be right back," he said as he got up, beckoning Isaac to follow him inside to change. "You gonna come in, Ryan?" he called over his shoulder when he'd come back, Isaac at his side, turning to give him a grin.

Ryan grinned and shrugged off his t-shirt, suddenly incredibly grateful for the fact that having turned thirty-one didn't appear to be showing on his body too much. He was by no means as lean as he'd once been, but still naturally slim. And as much as he usually didn't like getting shirt-less because of his scar, well, Brendon had seen it when it was a fresh, ugly wound, and this couldn't be nearly as bad. He followed the younger man until he was by the edge, walking around to the deeper end and jumping in.  


Brendon took the safer route and climbed in from the ladder, Isaac gripping his neck and making random little noises. "There we go," he said quietly, holding onto Isaac with one arm and pushing himself away from the edge with his free arm. "It's not so bad, right?" he asked, smiling at his son, who just looked at him a bit fearfully. He still hadn't quite gotten over his fear of water. "Maybe we can get you a floatie and you'll be able to just float around?" he suggested, trying to coax him away from his body a bit, but it only resulted in Isaac screaming and kicking his legs, shutting his eyes tightly. Brendon sighed and brought him in close to his body, making sure he could touch the floor of the pool and just walked around a bit.

Letting himself observe Brendon and Isaac for a moment, Ryan felt a small smile forming on his lips before he turned his gaze on his daughter who was grinning widely, and a moment later additional water was being splashed on him, prompting him to run over, as quickly as the water allowed him, and squirting right back, laughing when he heard Lucía's loud squeal when the water hit her. A moment later the ball hit him in the back of his head, and he ran closer, sending another splash ahead of him before he got close enough to pick his daughter up high and throw her a few feet, watching her go under before coming back up a few seconds later, spluttering and laughing with a wide smile on her face.

Isaac had turned to see what Lucía and Ryan were doing, and he let out a hair-raising shriek when Lucía disappeared under water. "Hey, hey," Brendon whispered, rubbing Isaac's back and turning him away. "She's okay. It's just water, she's not hurt," he explained, turning him back to see that Ryan's daughter was, indeed, perfectly fine. Smiling, even. Isaac just shook his head forcefully and Brendon sighed, walking slowly to the side of the pool. He lifted Isaac so that he was sitting on the edge, feet dangling in the water, and kept his hands on his son's stomach to keep him from falling in. "It's okay," he whispered. "I was never really fond of swimming, either," he confided with a small smile.

Lucía had climbed onto Ryan's back and was clinging on firmly even though they both knew that she was a proficient swimmer. He just laughed and shook his head forcefully, fat drops whipping out of his hair and hitting his daughter's face as he dragged her across the pool until they were next to Brendon and Isaac. "Hey," Ryan murmured, habitually mussing up Isaac's hair before flashing Brendon a smile. "If you don't like the pool, I'm sure we can find something else to do."  


Isaac shook his head, pouting and kicking his legs back and forth. "I wan' go in the water," he whispered, the corners of his lips turning down as tears welled in his eyes. Brendon stroked his cheek just as his chin started to quiver.

"Would you like to go take a bath?" he asked quietly, smiling sadly at his son. He obviously just wanted to go into the water because Lucía was there, and he was getting quite good at following her around and trying to do whatever she did. Isaac shook his head.

"Wan' play," he whined, looking at Lucía for a moment before turning back to his father.

"We can play in the bath, sweetheart, alright? We'll get you some toys and we can play in the bath until your toes and fingers are all shriveled up, okay?" he asked, smiling when Isaac looked up, hopeful and shy looking. He glanced at Ryan, as though to ask permission.

Ryan nodded immediately, flashing the boy a reassuring smile. "You can go on my back for a bit," he offered. "Like back in the spring, remember? Except this water isn't salty and cold." He made a bit of a grimace to underline his comment. "How's that sound?"  


Isaac looked down at his lap before nodding and shooting Ryan a shy smile.  


***

"I think these... Spaniards are purposely sending me to shitty villas so that I won't buy any of them. Do you think that's possible? Because I think they hate me and are doing everything in their power to drive me away," Brendon grumbled. He'd put Isaac to bed an hour ago, and then had spent some time on his laptop, looking at real estate. Now, as he joined Ryan on the roof with a beer in one hand, he plopped down into the chair next to Ryan's and sighed heavily. "I'm never going to find a place," he muttered.

Ryan bit his lip, slowly twirling the item in the pocket of his pants before making a quick decision and drawing it up, placing it on the the table in front of them. "It's big enough for all of us," he stated with a shrug, carefully not looking up. He suddenly felt more than just a bit fearful at the thought of how Brendon's response would be. Maybe it was a bit quick. But at the same time it would give them all a chance to get closer. And it wasn't like they would be moving in together, not when Ryan and Lucía just lived here part-time and it would only be a place to stay on holidays and vacations for Brendon and Isaac. Not really that big of a deal. That didn't stop his palms from sweating, though.  


Brendon looked up, confused, before spotting the key on the table and gaping at it. He was silent for what felt like a long time before looking back at Ryan. "Thank you," he said quietly, a smile forming on his lips. "I really appreciate it. And, um, Isaac will, too." Without hesitating, he reached over and took Ryan's hand in his, lacing their fingers before sitting back and sighing, feeling more relaxed than he had all day.

Smiling softly, Ryan squeezed Brendon's hand back, feeling incredibly light right at that moment. "We'll love having you around," he responded, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth for a moment before finally taking a deep breath and leaning in to press his lips quickly against Brendon's. "And seriously," he added, after pulling back. "Use it as much as you want. Luce and I don't need to be around for you guys to come and have fun." Although, really, that's what he'd prefer, all of them together, enjoying the space and the climate and atmosphere and each other. But this was Ryan's and Lucía's second home, and he hoped it could become that for Brendon and Isaac too, and not just necessarily  _with_  Ryan and his daughter.

Brendon smiled, inexplicably happy at the moment. "Oh, I intend to use this to my full advantage," he said, winking. "Isaac loves it here, as I've said, and I think it'll do him some good," he grinned. "Do I need to, uh... pay for something, or...?" he asked uncomfortably. He'd always been rather uncomfortable with talking about money, with anyone, really. It was good that Ryan was probably on the same page as he was, though, on the issue of money. He wasn't sure how much, exactly, he had, but he was sure that Ryan was more than well off. 

Ryan shrugged and shook his head. "Everything's paid for already," he stated. "I didn't want to have to worry about mortgages, and it seemed like a better investment to just own it entirely from the start." He bit his lip lightly. "I guess if you'd feel better about it we could work something out with it or something, but you shouldn't worry about it. It's not like I have financial issues anymore. Three best-selling books and twenty-percent cuts of a few platinum selling albums will do that to you, I guess." He shrugged slightly. "The movie deal is home, by the way. And don't even ask me how much money I got for the rights, because it's kind of embarrassing." He exhaled softly, grimacing. "Let's not talk about money."

Brendon chuckled softly and nodded. He didn't say anything for a long time, simply sitting and listening to the sounds of the water down below, feeling the breeze on his face. Finally, he sighed softly and smiled giddily before turning to Ryan. "We're holding hands," he stated, then laughed at the absurdity of his own words. He was silent for a moment, grinning, then, "I like that," he said softly, squeezing Ryan's hand before very hesitantly bringing it up to kiss the back of it. He bit his lip, grin still firmly in place, and told himself that he was allowed to be sappy  _sometimes_. No one had to know except Ryan, really.  


"That we are," Ryan agreed with an amused smile before staying quiet for a while, simply enjoying the atmosphere. "You can pay for the interior decorator," he finally offered. "You would probably want a study or an office so you can get a bit of work done while you're here, and I'm sure both you and Isaac would like your own rooms if we're sharing this." He closed his eyes and leaned farther back in his chair, tracing his thumb slowly over Brendon's knuckles. "I guess I'm going to have to open the third floor back up when there are bands staying, though."  


Brendon laughed again, somehow unable to believe that they were planning all this so that they could live together. Well, part-time, at least. "I have a feeling I'm going to have to keep Isaac away from those rock stars if any of us want peace and quiet. Next thing you know he'll want to start up a band," he shuddered. Isaac was only four, true, but he already had a deep love for music and instruments and learning about both. He had a feeling that this wouldn't be just a passing phase. It was frightening to think about him growing up, but Brendon couldn't ignore it.

"Maybe that would be for the best," Ryan agreed with a small laugh. "Look at the bright side, though. If he does one day decide he wants to be a musician, there's a fully equipped studio here, not to mention that fact that I have quite a few contacts in the industry. He'd never have to go through the shitty phase of it." He turned his head, letting his eyes open again to look at Brendon in the dim light. "I don't think you'll have to worry about that for quite a few years yet to come, though."  


Brendon waved him off with his free hand. "It goes by quickly. I mean, he was just a little alien type thing in Jenn, and now he's all... talking-- finally-- and walking and... afraid of the water," he chuckled and shook his head, sighing. "I think he'd be happy being a musician... but let's not talk about his profession just yet.  _That_  is scary," he admitted with a small grimace. He paused, then, "I think your daughter might want to help, somehow, with the Charity. Seemed very interested when I told her about it last time," he said, remembering their conversation clearly. He smiled, fully aware that their outing to the playground had changed her mind completely about him and he couldn't have been happier.

"I know," Ryan agreed. "Sometimes it seems like just yesterday that fucking Miriam came to my dorm in the middle of the night and gave me this wriggling bundle of blankets for me to freak the fuck out over. I'd been through a war and I was scared of a  _baby_." He groaned, rolling his eyes. "I'm glad you two did finally get around to doing that bit of talking," he finally stated. "On some points I think she really has more in common with you than me. I mean, sure, she plays a bit of music and she likes it, but I don't ever see her having the same passion for it I do. And she prefers reading to writing, so well..." He gave a small chuckle, shaking his head. "She does like helping people, though. A lot. I can definitely imagine her wanting to help you out with the Charity."  


"Yeah," Brendon said quietly, smiling. "She's completely you, though, you realize? Just... the way she talks and her mannerisms," he chuckled, "It screams you," he stated, nodding. He wanted to say  _I could take her to visit the Children's Center_  but he didn't know how Ryan would react to that, and he didn't want any bad reactions, not tonight. Of course, putting it off wouldn't do any good, either.  "Not that I knew you as a child, or anything... she just reminds me of you. Mini-you, in female version," he said, laughing quietly before sobering. "I... could take her to visit, you know. If she ever wanted, and you approved. Jon would be there, and..." he trailed off and shrugged, looking away, hoping he hadn't gone too far.

Ryan bit his lip as he thought it over, quelling the first urge to stamp his foot and say no. He had never wanted to shelter his daughter too much, not believing that it would be very good for her in the end. And as Brendon said, Lucía's Godfather would be there, not to mention Brendon himself. And if Brendon, somewhere down the line, was going to be Lucía's stepfather, Ryan needed to trust the younger man with his daughter, and let them spend time together without him. If this truly was going to work in the long haul, it shouldn't just be Brendon and Ryan being together and having their separate kids, separate styles of raising them, separate rules. If it was really supposed to be good, and permanent, they all needed to be a family, no matter how long it would take to really get that to work, get the lines to blur entirely. "I think you should ask her," he finally stated, well aware that there had been quite a long pause while he thought. "A week at the very most, and you have to promise to look out for her just as well as you know I'd look out for Isaac if the situation was reversed." He exhaled noisily before meeting Brendon's eyes. "I trust you," he finally stated.

Brendon, unable to control his wide grin, nodded eagerly. "Of course. Maybe I'd leave Isaac here, since he has absolutely no interest in the Charity," he chuckled softly. "And I trust you, too," he said quietly, and wanted to add more, tell Ryan he loved him, but he wasn't sure if they were there quite yet. He hoped he would recognize the proper time to tell Ryan he loved him and have him say it back, and  _mean_  it, with no regrets. "I'm not sure she'd be ready to leave you just yet, but... Well, I don't know her as well as you do, so I'm not fit to make that call."

Ryan gave a bit of a shrug. "As thankful as I am for how much she seems to, well, love me, I suppose... at one point she's going to have to realize that I'm the parent and she's really just a kid. My mother still can't come to England because of angry bureaucrats, but she can come to Spain. If she were to come visit while you took Lucía to America, I don't think she would be too worried." He groaned slightly, covering his face with his free hand. "I feel like I'm a kid in need of a babysitter again," he stated with a small chuckle. "But I think knowing her grandma is with me would make Luce less likely to get homesick, so... And it's about time she sees the country I grew up in in any case." Then he flashed a small smile, giving Brendon's hand another squeeze. "And I'd love to have Isaac stay," he stated. "If you don't think he'd miss you too much. I wouldn't exactly be able to fly him to America if needed."  


"I think that would be good," Brendon agreed, then grimaced. "Isaac... isn't the type to miss someone. If they're not right there with him, he just kind of forgets they exist, unless it's Jenn, in which case he'll just babble about her from time to time," he chuckled. "I don't know. I've left him with Spencer for days when I had to work, and he's always been fine, no matter how young he was," he shrugged. "It might be different if I was so far away, though. I really have no clue. I think it's more the fact that I would miss him," he admitted, blushing a bit. "I'm kind of attached," he smiled softly. He almost couldn't believe that they were actually discussing this. It seemed surreal to be making plans for Lucía to come with him to America, the only place her father couldn't go. He was glad, though, that Ryan was at least trying. He knew Lucía was the most important part of his life, and he knew it must have been hard to let someone who knows you so well and who you care about so much go to a country where you couldn't even go if you were needed. He was proud of him, though.

"Maybe we could ask him if he'd like it in the morning," Ryan suggested. "You should only treat kids as kids to a certain extent, not as though they don't have a mind of their own. In my opinion we can only make so many plans for them without having them in on it. It should be their decision, after all." He squeezed Brendon's hand again before pulling back a bit to play with his fingers. "You've gotten so much better about that attachment, though," he stated. "And maybe it would be a help to you as well to be separated from him a little." He gave a soft smile.  


Brendon nodded. He looked away for a moment, content and happy, feeling as though nothing could be better in the world. He sighed. "Yes, I think we should discuss it with them, certainly. And I cannot wait for the days when every decision or suggestion we make will be shot down. It's going to be soo much fun," he said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "And thank you. I think I was getting a bit too attached, there, for a while..." he shrugged and trailed off, embarrassed of the way he'd acted in the not-so distant past. "Want to go down to the beach tomorrow? I think Isaac would like playing in the sand, at least, and Lucía likes the water a lot."

"I think the beach sounds great," Ryan answered with a chuckle, letting his gaze linger on the younger man. The moon was out, setting everything in a sort of ghostly light, and making Brendon look even paler than he actually was, features off-set starkly. The years had been good to him, Ryan decided. He'd been handsome enough at eighteen, but at twenty-five he was stunning, shoulders broader, features more mature, his gait less awkward. "Did you know I used to think I was straight?" he suddenly found himself blurting, a light blush creeping over his face a moment later. He was suddenly incredibly grateful for the fact that moonlight made for very bad technicolor.  


Brendon snorted, shaking his head. "I would assume that is why you slept with a woman," he said, scowling a bit. "Or more, I don't know," he made a dismissive as he shrugged. He turned to look at Ryan and smiled crookedly. "But no, I didn't know that you thought you were straight when we were in school," he said quietly, biting his lip. He shrugged again and his mouth tightened as though he was trying to force himself not to speak. He'd been devastated to learn of Ryan having actually had sex with a woman-- or several-- and it still saddened him, but he knew it was just part of his past, something that he had to do to get to who he was today. And if he hadn't, Lucía wouldn't exist, and Brendon knew that she was the best thing that could have happened, so he couldn't stay mad about the fact that Ryan had had sex.

Laughing slightly, somehow a bit more comfortable now, Ryan shook his head. "When I actually slept with women I knew I was bi," he stated. "But I was convinced I was straight until I was twenty-three. April or May of that year, I think." Another chuckle made its way out of his mouth. "I had no clue where those boners came from when we made out and I was so embarrassed and confused. Looking back, it's pretty amusing. I was such a kid." He shook his head wryly. "For all the smarts I supposedly had it took me an incredibly long amount of time to actually grow up and begin to understand who I really was." He bit his lip, holding in the rest of the laughter that wanted to come out. He wasn't sure now was really the right time to laugh. "I felt so bad for believing I was straight and still getting my first kiss from a boy."  


It took a moment for Brendon to process what Ryan had said, but when he did, his breath caught in his throat and he looked at Ryan, eyes wide and unbelieving. "Really?" he breathed, tightening his grip on Ryan's hand. He wanted to scream for joy at the thought of being Ryan's first kiss. He'd known that they had both had sex for the first time together. Both of them virgins. But he hadn't known that they had been each other's first kiss, as well. It felt exhilarating. He almost didn't care that Ryan had thought himself straight at the time, and that he probably hadn't felt anything. Could almost forget that it had been a lie.

"Yeah," Ryan muttered. "Really." He flashed a small smile. "I guess I was what you might call a late bloomer," he added with a wink, shifting in the chair. "And I was so frightened that you might somehow be able to feel that I had no clue what I was doing." He rolled his eyes at his memories of his own younger self. "You were my first everything," he finally admitted. "First genuine crush, although I denied that for quite some time. First time falling in love. First time... holding the hand of someone who wasn't my mom, first kiss, first person I had sex with. Everything." He looked up under lowered lids, still smiling softly. "And maybe it was supposed to have been a lie, but I guess it's about time I admitted that I meant it all."  


Brendon closed his eyes and smiled, taking a deep breath to get himself under control. A second later, he leaned over and brushed his lips against Ryan's, putting only a bit of pressure before pulling back and beaming. "That means the world to me," he finally stated softly, letting go of Ryan's hand to run his own through Ryan's soft hair. He wanted to say that he thought that, maybe, they'd been destined to have their firsts together, but realized that the thought was much too sappy for his liking, and the thought of saying it out loud almost made him grimace. It was a nice thought, though, despite everything. 

The light kiss left Ryan's lips tingling and pulling up into a smile of their own volition. It briefly occurred to him that this was the first kiss Brendon had actually initiated since way back when, and it was a pleasant surprise. He leaned into the hand in his hair for a moment before leaning in farther and reciprocating, his hand settling on Brendon's jaw as he kissed him, slowly and softly for a moment before pulling back an inch or two, leaning their foreheads together. "We should get a couch or bench or something for up here," he stated with a lopsided smile. "Those damn armrests really do get in the way too much."

Brendon chuckled softly, feeling Ryan's breath on his lips and feeling a bit light headed. "I think... I should go to bed," he said, laughing lightly. "Before I do something that we're both not ready for," he finished. Giving Ryan one last kiss, letting it linger for a moment, and then stood, running his hand through Ryan's hair again before pulling away and disappearing down the ladder.

***

Brendon sat down at the breakfast table the next day and the food was already laid out. Isaac climbed into the seat next to his and Lucía sat right across from him. He gave her a small smile before serving himself and then Isaac in silence. When he looked up, it was to stare at Ryan, and he hoped that Ryan could somehow read his mind and guess what he was about to say. "I... have a proposal to make, Lucía, and I'd like to say right now that the final decision is entirely yours, alright?" he waited for her to nod before continuing. "Your dad and I were talking, and I brought up the fact that you might be interested in visiting the Children's Center that Spencer runs. If you wanted, I'd be willing to go with you for a visit, only for a week, whenever you were ready," he finished, keeping his tone light, but also hoping that it got across that she was in charge, and she just had to say whether or not she wanted to go. He left it open, knowing that she might want her father to fill her in on the details.

Lucía bit her small lip, not saying anything for a while. She would love to go and to see what they were doing and to play with some kids who didn't have it well, and maybe make them smile a little. She liked making people smile. But she was the only one who knew all her Daddy's little quirks, and when he needed to be left alone and when he needed a hug or a long snuggle. And she had only just gotten her puppy-dog. She wasn't sure she wanted to leave Petrol so soon. She looked over at her Daddy after a moment, and he nodded at her, let her know it was all right. But it wasn't, really, because Daddy wasn't always very good at taking care of himself. He needed Lucía very much, more than anyone, Uncle Jaken always told her that when she was feeling small or like she couldn't help enough because she was just a little girl.  
  
Ryan cleared his throat slightly, feeling a bit uncomfortable. He could read his daughter like a book and really, he should be the concerned one here, not her. It made him remember, again, that he had to become stronger, had to depend on her less and let her know that he needed her, but not this much. He needed her because he loved her, not because he would drop dead without her around. "It's okay, sweetie," he muttered. "I'll call your Granny, and she'll come stay with me while you're gone." He sent her a supportive smile. "I think if you ask Brendon very nicely he might even let you bring Petrol." The little girl was still biting her lip, looking more than a little torn before she finally gave a cautious nod.

"Only if Granny does come to stay, though," she quickly warned. "And I have to talk to her first and tell her all about what she should do, because someone has to look after you, Daddy, and do it  _right_." Ryan blushed slightly at the declaration, again a little uncomfortable with how protective she was of him. She was six years old for crying out loud. He was obviously a very, very bad father.

Brendon bit his lip, looking between father and daughter for a moment before sighing. "I'm sure your Granny will be just fine. She's known Ryan since he was born, after all," he chuckled. After a few uneasy seconds, he took a bite of his breakfast and chewed slowly, trying to get everyone a bit calmer before he spoke again. "I'm sure bringing your puppy will be no problem," he assured finally. "We can go for however long you like; it doesn't even have to be as long as a whole week. But I think you're going to have a lot of fun, visiting these children and perhaps Spencer can even fill you in on everything he does to help. Oh, and Jon will be there, of course," he quickly added, smiling again. He didn't want to say much more, because everything else on the tip of his tongue were something that should only be said to Ryan, not in front of his daughter. Telling her that her father could take care of himself, and  _should_  take care of himself would be crass and not well received at all. He knew that Ryan should probably have a talk with his daughter, though. He offered them both another smile before returning to his food, and making sure Isaac was eating, as well.

"Okay," Lucía finally agreed after another moment's hesitation, nodding slowly. "I do miss Uncle Jon," she added with a small smile, at long last allowing herself to look forward to the visit to a whole new country, and getting to help and see her uncle. It would be so much fun!

*** 

New York was very different from every other city Lucía had ever been to. Sure, she had seen skyscrapers and tall, glassy buildings before, but it all just seemed so  _new_ , even the buildings that were actually supposedly old. It was all so very exciting, even though it wasn't as fun and colorful as Madrid or as beautiful as Oxford or London. It was definitely very different from the real York. Old York? Although Lucía had liked Old York too, when Daddy had taken her up to see the city walls and the Viking Museum. But she did like it here, and she thought Petrol probably did too. She had only been there for a day and hadn't gotten to see anything to do with the Charity yet, but Brendon had shown her around and they'd hung out and seen Uncle Jon and that had been very nice too, even though it was hard to fall asleep the night before because she missed Daddy and was a little bit worried about him. Granny was great. Lucía loved her Granny, and Granny might have known Daddy since he was born, but Lucía just wasn't sure she knew enough anymore, because there were some things only Lucía knew, even though she'd done her best to tell them all to Granny before she was taken to the airport. She looked up at Brendon from where she was seated on the couch, watching cartoons and cuddling Petrol, eyes wide and worried and curious. "Do you think Daddy is okay?"

Brendon looked up from his laptop, brows furrowed before breaking into a smile. "Would you like to call him tomorrow morning?" he asked, glancing at the time on the laptop. Surely it was too late to call right now, and they'd called from the airport upon their arrival, anyway. "I'm sure he's just fine, though. It'll be very good for him to be with Granny for a bit. And Isaac will keep him busy," he winked. "And you can tell him all about what you've seen, and then tomorrow after noon we're going to go to the Children's Center for a few hours, Spencer agreed to show us around," he explained, flashing another smile. "Maybe we'll go out for supper with Spencer and uncle Jon in the evening, if you feel up to it," he added, desperately just wanting to make her feel comfortable and hoping she would have fun. It would be best for everyone if she was happy.

"I would like to call him tomorrow very much," she answered. "And talk to Granny too, because if Daddy isn't feeling well I know he won't tell me, but maybe Granny will." Then she grinned. "And I would really like the rest of it too, very much. It's nice here." She swung her feet lightly against the bottom of the couch. "But I don't understand why it's called Time's Square. Time can't own a square, can it? How can time own anything?"

Brendon chuckled, frowning a bit. He knew he'd heard about this at some point, and he dug into the very back of his memory, trying to remember why exactly it was called Times Square. "Oh! Right, okay, well, it used to be called Longacre Square but it was renamed after the Times building, which is where the former offices of The New York Times were, which is a newspaper," he said, proud of himself for having remembered something he'd learned in passing so long ago. "So, time doesn't own the square, but I suppose the newspaper kind of does... or, at least, has it's tribute there. It's still a very popular newspaper, known almost everywhere," he explained, and almost didn't know where this information was coming from. Did he really know that much about where he lived? He'd gotten used to New York, but he'd never particularly liked it.

"Oh," Lucía muttered, nodding. "That makes sense." She looked up again with a smile. "Do you have anything else to do?" she asked. "Petrol is getting bored with the cartoons."

Brendon nodded. "Well, Isaac has a playroom, if you'd like to check that out. Has a big train set, too, which he loves. Lots of puzzles, blocks, uh... yeah," he smiled sheepishly, hoping that she would like at least some of the toys. He got up, putting the laptop on the side table, and offered her his hand. "Shall we?" he asked.

Nodding excitedly, Lucía put Petrol on the floor and grabbed Brendon's hand, allowing herself to be led through the house, skipping slightly to keep up with the grown man's longer strides. At least his legs weren't as long as Daddy's. When she was walking with Daddy and he forgot to think she had to run to stay by his side. It was all a lot easier when she was smaller and grown-ups were willing to carry her everywhere. Upon reaching the playroom, she squealed and ran inside, eyes growing wide at the sight of the large, authentic-looking train set. "This is  _brilliant_ ," she exclaimed before plopping down to start rearranging something that looked off about one of the stations.   


Brendon sat down cross-legged next to her and nodded. "Isaac spends hours with it," he chuckled. "I used to have one exactly like this one, so I had it made for him when he was smaller," he explained. "When he grows out of it I'll have to find somewhere to put it, because it's so big, and Spencer's trying to convince me to donate it to the Children's Center." He'd been thinking about doing just that, even before Spencer's suggestion. It saddened him to give away his son's toy, though, especially something that looked exactly like one he'd had. And what if he ever had grandchildren? Surely he should keep it for them.

"I don't think everyone grows out of toy trains," Lucía claimed. "Uncle Jaken has one in the attic and he still plays with it sometimes. It's not nearly as pretty as this one, though." She looked up through her lashes. "But if those children need it more..." She shrugged.

Brendon threw his head back and laughed at that, unable to help himself. "I find myself playing with this sometimes, too," he admitted, still chuckling a bit. "Hopefully Isaac won't grow out of it for another long time," he said quietly. 

Lucía shrugged and rearranged the tracks just slightly, moving a small hill with a tunnel a bit as well so as to fit with the altered course. Then she pressed the button that made it start up, a wide smile on her face when it went, following the tracks on the new route perfectly. "Brilliant!" she stated again, voice practically reeking with enthusiasm. She giggled slightly as she watched the train take the round a couple more times before she stopped it and started rearranging again. Just before she pushed the button once more she looked up at Brendon with wide, earnest eyes. "Are you going to be my second Daddy, then?"

Brendon nearly choked on his own spit at the question, averting his eyes for a moment before hesitantly meeting Lucía's gaze once more. He was silent for what felt like a long time, before clearing his throat and shrugging uneasily. "I... would like very much to be part of your family," he said carefully, nervously pulling on a loose thread in his shirt. "But that's still up to you and your father," he said firmly, though he still sounded uncomfortable about answering. He had never really given any thought to whether or not Lucía would call him Daddy, or Father, or... anything, really. But he realized that it should be one of the things he considered and discussed with her.

Nodding slowly, Lucía bit slowly down on her bottom lip in thought. She liked that she was actually being asked. It didn't surprise her overly much, because Daddy always asked her about stuff before dragging her into it, but other adults weren't always the same way. She liked the ones who were, though. Maybe she was just a kid, but that didn't mean she was always just along for the ride. She was a person too, and one thing that made her like people was when they realized that. "We'll see," she said slowly, dragging out the words. Then she burst out in a fit of giggles, easily countering the ominous sound to her words.

 

Brendon's eyes widened before he smiled nervously and nodded. "Fair enough," he said quietly, chuckling. 

***  


  
"We're still working on a bit of construction-- adding another wing," Spencer was explaining as he lead Brendon and Lucía into the Children's Center. He still hadn't come up with a proper name, but he thought Children's Center was fine for now. It was easy to find, at least. He'd had the front entrance, which they were now standing in, decorated with bright colors. On the left was a mural of cartoon characters that children loved, on the right was a big reception desk. The girl behind the counter was dressed in bright colors and always wore a smile. It was kind of like a big orphanage, except better than anything Spencer had ever seen. Children, as young as 12 months and as old as 18 years, could be admitted. Many of them were from Beauregia, and though they had been worse off a few years ago, some were still recovering. Spencer had hired therapists and doctors, and the children needed them less and less, which was a plus in his books. He was worried that, as the children grew, he would be run out of business. He'd already said goodbye to quite a few.

Because of this, Spencer was thinking of turning the Children's Center into a real orphanage, where children could be admitted whether or not their families had been torn apart by war. He'd yet to talk to Brendon about it, though, and figured he could still wait a few years before doing so. Snapping out of his thoughts, Spencer glanced down at Lucía and smiled. "We have several play rooms, as well as areas for arts and crafts, music, a library... is there anything you'd like to see first?"

Lucía thought through the options carefully, reaching up to tug her hair behind an ear. It was loose today, which was okay because she didn't think Brendon would be as good at putting it up as her Daddy. "The play rooms?" she finally suggested, grinning up at the grown-ups. "And do you think maybe one of them will let me see their room later?"  


  
Spencer chuckled, looking up at Brendon, who was grinning fondly at Lucía. He bit his lip before motioning for them to follow him and setting off. "I'm sure that if you make friends with someone, they won't have any problem with it," he assured. "Many of the children are very social and outgoing. A few of them still have trouble, but with everything they've been through..." he trailed off and shook his head. "You know, I found it a bit odd that it was always the oldest children-- teenagers-- who had a harder time. But I guess it's just because they can fully understand what's going on." He lead them to a smaller hallway, lined with elevators. Pressing the button with the arrow pointing upwards, he smiled down at Lucía again and ushered them inside the first elevator to open its doors. The inside was gold and silver plated, rather extravagant, but the children liked seeing their reflections all distorted. He pressed the button for the second floor, and was ushering them out in a matter of seconds. The second floor was, essentially, where all the activities happened. He lead the way to an arts and crafts room. There were about a dozen children, most of them younger than twelve, but there was a small group of teenagers in the corner. The woman looking over the room was sitting at the table with the younger children. She had a degree in art, and acted like a sort of teacher for the children who needed her.

So maybe it wasn't the play room, but it still looked terribly interesting. Lucía didn't hesitate before abandoning the grown-ups and bounding into the room, skipping over to the table with the woman and the kids who looked closer to her age. She flashed her best smile and held out her hand to the woman, remembering how her Grandma had always said that you should introduce yourself to the adult first because it was rude to play with the children before that. "Hello, ma'am," she said, still smiling as she waited for the woman to wipe the wet paint off her hand so they could shake. "I'm Keely Ross. Pleased to meet you."  


  
The woman smiled widely at Lucía before wiping off her hands and shaking her hand. "Hello, I'm Angie," she answered, then glanced up to smile at Brendon and Spencer. "Would you like to do some painting?" she asked, wondering who exactly the little girl was, but thinking it would be rude to ask. She could see the other children staring at Brendon, eyes wide. They knew who he was, of course, though mostly they had only heard about him. Even the teenagers in the corner had looked up with interest.

"Yes, I would," Lucía answered, barely containing the squeal in her voice. She loved to paint! She looked up at Brendon. "If it turns out pretty, can we send it back to Daddy and Isaac and Grandma?" Without waiting for an answer she took the offered paper and paintbrush, dipped the brush in the paint and bit her lip as she contemplated for a moment what to paint. Finally, settled on painting Daddy and the little boy in Daddy's studio where they were probably spending a ton of time, and Petrol, because Petrol couldn't not be in it, she started painting, humming one of Daddy's songs softly under her breath.  


  
Angie smiled, glancing briefly at Brendon and Spencer hanging out by the door, before immersing herself in her own work once again. It was quiet for a few seconds before one of the children piped up, a little boy with blond hair and a face full of paint. "Who're you?" he asked curiously, blinking at Lucía and furrowing his brows in an exaggerated grimace. "Brendon's not your daddy! He's Isaac's daddy, and Isaac came here to play one time," he explained, looking highly suspicious for such a small child.

"I'm Keely Ross," Keely answered again, giving an exaggerated sigh of tested patience. "I'm staying with Brendon this week to learn how to help people and to see New York. Isaac is staying with my Daddy because they both love music, and Brendon and I sometimes get bored with it."  


  
"How does Brendon know your daddy?" another child asked, nose wrinkled and red hair in messy curls around her face. "He used to be a prince, you know. Is your daddy a prince?" she asked, looking more confused than before, now. Surely princes only consorted with other princes and the people who worked for them. Angie glanced up, listening intently and ready to butt in if things got out of hand. She noticed the kids in the corner were all looking their way and listening, as well.

"They are old friends," Lucía answered with a shrug. "Or, I guess my Daddy and Uncle Jon are old friends because Daddy and Brendon weren't friends for loads of years because they got angry with each other, but they're friends now." She leaned in closer with a conspiratorial look on her face. "I think they were in a war together, but I don't really know much because nobody ever wants to talk about it." Then she smiled. "My Daddy isn't a prince. He's an author, though, and that's much more brilliant. He tells the  _best_  stories!"  


  
All the children and adults started when a chair clattered to the floor. Brendon looked up to see one of the boys who'd been huddled in the corner advance towards the kids' table, an angry glint in his eyes. Mentally berating himself, he took a few steps forward, glaring warningly at the boy. He should have never brought her here, of course. He knew some people held grudges against Ryan, and you only needed to look up the war on the internet to see his name mentioned a few times. Many websites had done their best to put him in the worst light possible.

"Ryan Ross is your father?" the boy spit out, hovering over Lucía. Angie stood, placing a hand on his shoulder and whispering to him. She shook her head and frowned when he wouldn't even look at her.

"Yes," Lucía answered proudly. She had picked up on the fact that something was wrong, but there was no way she was going to deny it or act as though she was ashamed of the person she loved more than anything in the whole world. "And he's the best Daddy in the world!" she added, glaring up at the much older boy.  
 

The boy scoffed and then sneered down at her, apparently not caring that Brendon was trying to pull him away and that Spencer was saying-- something-- quite loudly. "Yeah, you must be so proud," he said with false sweetness. "He got plenty of people killed, including both my parents! More like the worst person in the world," he spat, before being pulled away by Brendon. "What?!" he yelled, pushing Brendon away from him.

"Don't you ever say that about him again," Brendon said, quietly but firmly. "I think you should follow Spencer," he suggested, eyes narrowed. The boy stood glaring at Brendon for a while, unmoving. Finally, he turned to Lucía again and smirked.

"Hope you're proud of your murdering father," he said, and then stalked out of the room, Spencer following closely behind him and yelling about being in trouble. Brendon ran a hand over his face and shook his head. Great. Ryan would be so angry when he heard about this, especially since Lucía had been there to witness everything.

Lucía promptly stuck her tongue out at the boy's retreating back. "What a rude boy," she said loudly, directed at the whole room and quite possibly the boy. "I don't think I like him at all." She looked over and saw Brendon fidgeting and felt amusement wash away a bit of her anger and indignity. "Don't worry," she told the man. "Uncle Jon told me once that people might sometimes not like me because of who Daddy is, and that I should never believe them because Daddy is a hero who saved all your lives, and some people won't understand that because they want to be angry with  _someone_." She nodded importantly before fully abandoning her painting and walking over to hug Brendon's legs. He looked like he needed one, and his legs were as far as she could reach.  


  
Brendon's anger slowly started to fade and he scooped Lucía up into his arms to give her a real hug. "Would you like to go explore the other rooms? I'm sure Spencer will join us again soon enough," he said, putting her back down. He couldn't be more happy that she was so intelligent and resilient. If someone had insulted his own father like that, he would have thrown a fit and ruined the person's life. Apparently Lucía was above that, though, which Brendon thought was good. He smiled down at her, awaiting the answer.

 

"Unless everyone wants me to leave, I would like to finish my painting," she answered, giving Brendon a smile and quickly pecking his cheek before shrugging slightly. "It's a good painting. It's of Daddy and Isaac and Petrol. You can help me if you want. And then I would like to see the playrooms."

 

"Alright," he said, winking. "And I'd probably ruin your beautiful painting if I tried to help, so I'll just take a seat at the table and wait," he said playfully, sitting in the only empty chair. It was small, and he was half-afraid it would collapse, but it was worth it. And it turned out that they didn't have to wait long for Spencer, after all, because he joined them again only ten minutes later, looking exasperated and apologetic. "It's fine," Brendon assured for the third time, smiling at Lucía. It was only then that Spencer looked somewhat relieved.

"Uncle Jon also said that being angry with Daddy because you've lost your country is just stupid," Lucía stated without looking up from her painting. "People just tend to forget that Daddy lost his country too." She washed the color off the paint brush in a glass of water and dried it in a napkin before dipping it in another color, biting her lip as she concentrated on trying to get Isaac's hair just right. Then, finally, she dipped into the blue color - they didn't have any petrol - and painted her doggie. Sure, she knew he was white and grey, but his  _name_  was Petrol, and she had wanted some more color in the picture. Finally finished, she looked back at the grown-ups with a grin. "Look!" she invited happily, anger already completely forgotten.

 

Brendon grinned and leaned over to see her painting. "Beautiful. I bet you your father will want to put that up right away," he said, then pointed at Isaac. "Isaac looks perfect, and so does your father. Oh, and Petrol, of course," he added, chuckling. "And uncle Jon was completely right when he told you that. Your father lost just as much as anyone else in the war, and he saved lives. He's a hero," he said quietly, wistfully.

Feeling even happier than she had a moment ago, Lucía grinned wider. Then she looked over at Angie. "Can I leave it here to dry or will someone ruin it?" she asked suspiciously, narrowing her eyes at the remaining big kids in the room. She knew it needed to dry, or she'd ruin it by bringing it with her, but if someone was going to ruin it she would rather do it herself.  


  
Angie smiled softly. "We can put it away to dry, darling, and I'll make sure no one touches it until you get back," she assured, motioning to a large table where a number of other paintings were also drying.

"Thank you very much," Lucía said, smile growing on her face again. She carefully lifted the picture and carried it to the table where she put it down gently, making sure she didn't smudge any of the other paintings there. If you didn't want your own stuff ruined, it was important not to do anything to anyone else's. Daddy had taught her that, and she thought it was really smart advice. "Can we see the playrooms?" she asked a moment later, hurrying back over to grab both Brendon and Spencer's hands.

 

Spencer chuckled and nodded. "Of course," he replied. "There's one not too far away that a lot of the children like because it has a television as well as a ton of toys," he explained, leading them down the long corridor and stopping in front of a huge, bright red door that looked like something out of a children's show. He opened the door and smiled when he saw his own personal favorite room. It was loud and colorful and looked like a fairytale. Any child's dream, really. He smiled down at Lucía again. "Like it?" he asked.  


 

"It's  _brilliant_!" Lucía breathed, eyes lighting up at the view she was getting. She spent a moment taking it all in before letting out a quiet squeal and running inside, hoping the kids here were nicer than the ones in the art room had been. There was a slide and a swing set.  _Inside_. And dress up clothes and dollies and a small plastic kitchenette, and she absolutely adored it. She hurried over to the slide and climbed up, grinning at a girl somewhere around her own age who was scurrying up the ladder right behind Lucía before she slid down with a loud giggle.

 

Brendon chuckled, sitting down on a bench that was much too small for him and grinning up at Spencer. "You're going a great job here," he said, though he'd said it many times before and would probably say it again. Spencer sat down beside him and nodded. 

"The kids are growing up, though. I mean, I love seeing them become adults and going to live out on their own, but... what will I do after?" he asked, sounding slightly melancholy. He shrugged, looking at the children in the big room and sighing. "Could I make this a real orphanage in a few years? Where anyone can come, and children are actually adopted? It happens so little right now..." he trailed off, looking over at Brendon. "I didn't want to ask you right away, you know, thought of waiting a few years... but I think it would be good to give children a place like this. Every child. Maybe we could even run a daycare center!" he exclaimed, excited now.

Brendon chuckled. "Whoa, okay. Calm down," he said softly, shaking his head. "I think it's a great idea. We'll talk about it more later, alright?" he asked, only slightly surprised when Spencer gave him a one-armed hug.

 


	24. Chapter 24

It had been an amazing week, in Ryan's opinion. He and Isaac had made three whole, cute, little live CDs, even including some songs where Ryan had simply played out some chords or melodies and Isaac had sung nonsense off the top of his head. Those, really, were most definitely the most adorable. And they'd gone into the mountains, heard bedtime stories, practiced instruments and gone swimming enough that the small boy wasn't anywhere near afraid of the water anymore. Sure, he'd missed Lucía more than he could even explain, having never been away from her for even a whole day since he'd gotten her, but her daily phone calls and artsy letter had convinced him that his daughter was more than all right, which reassured him that he was right in being unwilling to trade the past week for anything.

 

Having spent time with his mother, too, had been great. He missed the woman often and being able to be around her and simply talk to her without having her voice come out of a phone had been amazing. And it was made even better by the fact that she and Isaac had taken to each other immediately, although he was a bit unsure of how Isaac's sudden habit of calling her 'Gramma' was going to go down with Brendon. Well, they'd weather that storm when it hit.

 

Right now he was in the car, Isaac strapped securely into the seat next to him, on their way to the airport to pick up Brendon and Lucía, and Isaac was jittery and excited and an absolute joy. "Looking forward to seeing your Dad again?" Ryan asked with a laugh, half sarcastically, since the boy could hardly have been more obvious about it. Besides, he kind of had the feeling that Isaac was one of those incredibly rare kids who actually understood sarcasm and found it funny, so he didn't hold it back around the boy as much as he would around Lucía.  


  
Isaac giggled, looking up at Ryan and jumping around in his seat. "Uncle Spencer showed Keely his work and all the kids there and the playroom with the big red door, and Papa said it was fun," he said in one breath, nodding, eyebrows raised. "They have a swing inside!" he exclaimed, not for the first time since his father had called and told them about their day at the Children's Center. Isaac didn't much like talking on phones, but he did like listening to his Papa. He sat back and kicked his feet back and forth, excited to be seeing his Papa, because he had missed him so, even if he had had a lot of fun with Ryan and he had sung quite a bit.

"Papa will like our cds!" he announced, sounding quite sure of himself.

"Of course he will," Ryan agreed with a chuckle. Reaching out with one hand to muss up the boy's hair. "I don't see how anyone could not like our CDs. You sound great on them." He made to still keep an eye on the road, even as he continued speaking with Isaac. "And it sounds as though they've had nearly as much fun as we did, huh?" He took a turn and there was the parking lot. With habitual ease, he maneuvered the car into a free spot as close to the building as possible before getting out and shutting his door. He rounded the car to the other side and opened the passenger side door where he unbuckled Isaac and helped him off Lucía's old kiddie seat. "There are a lot of people here, okay? So don't let go of my hand," he instructed before starting to walk with short, slow steps towards the airport, doing his best to make it easy, or at least manageable, for the boy to keep up.

 

"I want up," Isaac said childishly. Yes, he could walk, but he loved being carried. "Papa said Uncle Spe'cer and Jon got into a fight," he said conversationally, giggling into his hand. "Spencer and Jon fight all the time 'bout nothing," he mimicked his father's words perfectly before laughing again. He looked over at Ryan curiously, tilting his head to the side. "Did they fight lots when you knew them, too?" he asked.

Ryan leaned down and easily scooped Isaac up, chuckling slightly as he helped the small boy get situated on his own diminutive hip. "Did he say what they were fighting about?" he asked curiously. "And they did. It was never anything serious. Sometimes I think they did it for fun. It was very fun to watch at least." He looked up at the computers, now that they'd entered the main building, and gouged which terminal they needed to be at before setting off in that direction. "One time they had a fight about who had forgotten to take an old note off the notice board on the wall in their dorm room."

 

Isaac giggled again and shook his head, his whole body swaying along. "Papa said it was 'bout nothing. Absolutely nothing!" he said dramatically, then leaned in closer. "I think it was about Petrol," he said, smiling. "Maybe he messed up Jon's bed and Spencer laughed at him!" he suggested, because he knew Jon wouldn't like someone messing up his bed, and he just knew Spencer would laugh about it and Jon would pretend to be angry for a bit and start a fight just because. "Papa said he wanted to put them in time out," Isaac said, eyes wide. "And then I said he was being mean!"

"Your papa likes to think he's the voice of reason," Ryan stated with a laugh. "But let's just be nice and avoid bursting his bubble just yet, shall we?" He put on a thoughtful look, hoisting Isaac up a little. "The Petrol thing sounds quite likely, though. I think that doggie likes to cause some havoc when he can." He cocked an eyebrow, still smiling. "Maybe Spencer told Jon to grow up. You know he likes to do that. And Jon pretended to get mad and started an argument just because."

 

"Papa likes calling Jon a teenager and a child," Isaac said knowingly, nodding. "Where is he!?" he asked suddenly, excited to see his father. He hummed absently, twisting his fingers into Ryan's shirt and leaning his head on the man's shoulder. "Do you think they brought back gifts?" he asked, giggling.

"I think everyone does," Ryan said, looking up at the screen showing arrivals. "They won't be here for another fifteen minutes. Do you need anything to eat or drink?" He smiled at the feeling of the small head on his shoulder. It was a scary prospect in some ways, really, but somewhere in his future he could truly see himself loving Isaac as much as he loved Lucía. Hopefully that realization didn't make him an even worse father than he already was. "And if they haven't brought gifts we'll push them in the pool when we get back. How's that?"

 

Isaac nodded against Ryan's shoulder, chewing on the material of his own shirt. He paused for a second to ask, "Can I have some milk?" before starting again. He was so excited to see his Papa, even if it had only been a few days. It had felt like much longer. Nights, especially, had been bad, and he remembered crying on the first night because it was so unfamiliar. But Ryan had been there, and it had gone better after that.

"Sure, kiddo," Ryan answered with a small smile, sending another glance to the boy in his arms. Isaac was clearly exhausted, but then again he'd been so excited the whole night that it was doubtful whether he'd gotten any sleep at all. Ryan hoisted Isaac up once more and turned around, making his way back to the kiosk they had just passed where he bought a carton of milk and a small Mickey Mouse water bottle. Then he went into the toilets and poured out the water, depositing Isaac on the floor while he carefully poured milk into the bottle before handing it over with a smile, satisfied that Isaac would at least be able to drink from that, as opposed to the carton. "Enjoy," he instructed with a laugh, pouring the rest of the milk down the sink and the carton in the trash before picking the boy up again and heading for the terminal.

 

Isaac gulped the milk greedily, glad that he didn't have to walk. There were people everywhere and he watched them with wide eyes. They all looked in a terrible hurry and very tired, but still excited. There were a lot of children, too, most of them running around, laughing loudly, or crying just as loudly. He frowned. "Why are they crying and running and being very loud?" he asked quietly. Didn't they know they had to behave in public?

Ryan shrugged, being careful not to dislodge Isaac or the milk. "I'm guessing it's because they're seeing people they love whom they haven't seen for a while, or just because they're going on vacation. That would be the noise and the laughter, though, not the crying. Do you like vacations?" He shifted his grip as they got closer to the terminal. "Look," he directed, pointing out the window. "There's a plane landing. I think that's the one they're in."

 

"Yes, I like vacations because I go with my Papa, and sometimes Spencer, and sometimes we come see you," Isaac replied before gasping loudly and smiling. "I hope they have gifts," he said, giggling. His Papa always brought back the best gifts, after all. 

"Oh, yes," Ryan said, widening his eyes over-dramatically. "I would  _love_  to come see me too." He smiled softly. "Travelling really is fun," he added. "Maybe we should convince your papa that Rome or Greece could be fun at some point, huh?" He looked thoughtful for a moment. "If they bring gifts, though," he stated. "That's going to make us look really bad since we only have CDs for them."

 

Isaac grinned. "No!" he scolded, shaking his head forcefully. "Our cds are going to be much better than the gifts because we made them ourselves!" he lectured, patting Ryan's face with his hand. "Where's Greece and Rome?" he asked, and went back to looking around for his father as he awaited an answer.

Ryan hummed softly. "I suppose you're right about that," he finally acquiesced. "Rome is in Italy. If you've ever seen a map of Europe, that's the boot country. And Greece... that's a little further away, but very beautiful too. One day we could even drive the car down to Suez and catch a ferry across to Africa, wouldn't that be exciting?" A moment later he looked over to see that people were entering the reception area. "Oh, better keep your eyes open now."

Isaac nodded dutifully and craned his neck, trying to catch glimpse of his father. When he did, he yelled "Papa!" and stretched out his arms to the man running towards him. Brendon was grinning and holding Lucía's hand as she dragged him along as quickly as she could go. When they reached Ryan and Isaac, Brendon swooped his son into his arms and showered him with kisses even as the boy giggled and told him to " _arrète papa!_ ".

Crouching down, Ryan pulled Lucía tightly to him, burying his face in her loose, soft blond hair even as he felt her arms wrapping around his neck, so tightly he thought she would never let go again. After a few minutes he held her out a little, smiling. "Did you have a good time?" he asked softly, yet loudly enough to be heard over the general noise of the airport.

 

Lucía nodded enthusiastically. "I had a brilliant time!" she exclaimed. "We saw so much! And some of the kids at the Children's Center were really rude, but I liked it there anyway." Then her face adopted a premature concern and she looked him over carefully. "Are you all right, Daddy? You remembered to eat, right? And you didn't get scared in the night or have panic attacks?"

 

Ryan chuckled slightly although he couldn't help but feel sad at the questions. "I had a great time, although I missed you very, very much," he answered lowly. "And don't I look all right to you, young lady? I had your Grandma  _and_  Señora hounding me about, so I should think things worked out." He winked slightly, but sobered when he saw her sad look. "No one knows me as well as you do, though," he assured. "I'm sure things will be much easier now that you're back." Then he took her hand, gave it a small squeeze, and straightened up, giving Brendon a wide smile before he moved in close and wrapped his arms around the younger man without invitation. "Thanks for keeping her unconcerned for a bit," he whispered before letting go with a smile.

 

Brendon smiled, Isaac latched to his leg, and restrained himself from kissing Ryan senseless. "She was great," he said, hoisting Isaac into his arms. "She was really good with the kids at the Center, even if they did cause a bit of trouble at first, and I think she really liked it there," he assured. He looked at Isaac and smiled, giving him a kiss. "And how were you, Little Boy?" he asked to Isaac's giggling. The boy started chattering on and on about the week, almost going too fast for Brendon to understand and clearly excited about seeing his father again.

Laughing slightly at Isaac's obvious excitement, Ryan reached out and pulled Lucía close to his side, looking down at her with a smile. "You too big to be carried?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. She shook her head briskly, holding out her arms, and Ryan hoisted her up, making a great show of huffing and puffing. "I'm not sure if you're getting too big or I'm getting too old," he stated with an exaggerated groan, laughing once more as her small fist hit his chest. He turned his gaze back to Brendon. "So, do you want to find a restaurant and disappoint the old ladies or would you prefer going back to the villa for a home-cooked Spamerican meal?"

"Choices, choices," Brendon said, shaking his head. He leaned in suddenly, made a show of looking around, and then whispered; "Lucía and I have been eating out all week, to be completely honest. Whatever you want is fine," he said with a wink. "I'm sure either one will be delicious," he added, and then looked down at Isaac to see him chewing his shirt. "Hey, hey, hey. What're you doing? Shirts aren't for eating! You can't be that hungry," he chuckled, pulling the material out of Isaac's mouth and shaking his head.

Lucía giggled madly and looked up at Ryan with her big, honey-brown eyes. "I want to see Grandmama," she stated, biting her lip. Ryan suspected she wanted to see 'Grandmama' for a big interrogation about bedtimes and proper meals, but if she thought that was fun...

 

Nodding slowly, Ryan flashed Lucía a smile. "Back to the villa it is," he stated before looking at Isaac for a moment. "Unless this little guy has anything against eating with a couple of old ladies who can't stop fighting over supreme rule of the kitchen for the eighth day in a row?"  


   
Isaac looked up rather sleepily and stuck his tongue out at Ryan, which Brendon took as him saying he didn't care. He had a feeling his son would be going to bed very soon, anyway. He smiled softly and shook his head. "I'm sure it'll be fine, though I will be seeing your mother for the first time in... how long?" he asked, grimacing a little. "But I'm sure that'll be fine, too," he said, shrugging. "Oh, crap! We've gotta go get our luggage and Petrol! Everyone hurry up, now, and if you spot our luggage, just yank it off the turning carpet thing..." he said, chuckling, and hurried towards where they would collect their belongings.

Ryan shook his head in amusement of the fact that after just a week apart they were all too excited to see each other again to remember things as essential as luggage and  _Lucía's dog_! Having been in this airport most times of all of them, he led the way to baggage claim where they quickly found the right bags and went to fill out the necessary papers and get Petrol back. "Good thing one of us didn't have his head in the clouds," Ryan stated with a laugh when they were finally making their way out of the airport towards the car, Lucía on the ground now so Ryan could carry her bag and the dog crate. His left shoulder protested a bit, like it tended to do when strained or in bad weather. He grimaced slightly and sped up as much as he thought Lucía could keep up with, eager to get rid of the burdens soon.

 

Brendon chuckled. "Yes, well, I  _am_  a genius," he said, pulling his luggage along while still holding onto Isaac. He'd have to stop carrying the boy around soon, that was for sure. They got to the car and Brendon hoisted things into the trunk before getting the kiddie seat and putting it in the back. "Can Lucía sit in front?" he asked, planning to sit in back with Isaac if Ryan let her sit in front. He wasn't sure if she did, yet, or if she was still too small, though, so he would leave that up to Ryan as he got Isaac strapped in.

"There should be a cushion in the back," Ryan stated, picking up on the fact that Brendon wanted a little time with his son. Ryan couldn't deny he wanted Lucía close right then too. "When she uses the passenger seat she usually sits on that and things tend to work out." He put Lucía's bag in the trunk of the car and let Petrol out of the cage before he stuffed that in as well. "You're on dog duty, though," he quickly added. "I don't want him up front while I'm driving." He suppressed the urge to rub at his shoulder. He didn't like to make a big deal out of the scar or the damage that still lingered in the joint and no one really knew that he still felt anything, and he'd prefer if it remained that way. The doctor had predicted arthritis in it before he turned forty, but he was hopeful they'd have found a cure by then.

Brendon put the cushion in the front and settled himself in the back, scooping up Petrol and setting him in his lap. "You'd better be very well behaved for this ride," he warned, groaning when the dog licked his face. "Ugh," he said, shaking his head. "No slobbering, either," he pleaded, winking at Isaac who was watching them with a grin. "And I think you're tired, young man," he said when Isaac yawned. "You're going to bed right after supper," he said gently, chuckling when Isaac pouted.

Chuckling slightly, Ryan buckled Lucía in, grateful to be distracted from the dull ache in his shoulder. Then he got in himself and started up the car, pulling out of the parking lot and starting the habitual ride back to the villa. "I heard a little bird sing something about Jon and Spencer fighting," he stated curiously. "Anyone care to elaborate on that?"

Brendon glared playfully at Isaac when he burst out laughing. He sighed. "I have no clue what the argument was originally about, but they just kept biting each other's heads off for about a day and a half over something, and it was clear that Jon was just trying to rile up Spencer, but he kept taking the bait or something..." he shook his head. "I don't know," he chuckled exasperatedly. 

"Those two are never going to change, couple or not," Ryan stated with an amused eye-roll. He made a turn to get them out of the city and pressed the button to roll down his window, inhaling the fresh air outside with a smile. He sighed, fighting the urge to close his eyes. "I don't think Isaac is the only one going to bed early tonight," he stated. "Kid kept me up all night, he was that excited to see you again. And I'm not as young as I used to be." He winked into the rearview mirror, grinning a moment later. "Dinner might be a long affair, though, if they continue to insist on trying to outcook each other."

Brendon chuckled, meeting Ryan's eyes in the mirror briefly. "Oh, god," he groaned, shaking his head. "Maybe we can just sneak into the house, skip the meal, and go straight to bed?" he suggested, smirking.  


 

"Was that an invitation?" Ryan jested, chuckling. "Nah, we wouldn't hear the end of it tomorrow. And getting the same insults in two languages is really the worst kind of stereo there is." He paused for a moment, taking another turn, and now the could see the coast stretched out on their side, all cerulean water and sparkling sun. "The trick," he explained. "Is to just take tiny little servings of everything, say you're making room for the dessert, but make sure to point out that everything is delicious. When the dessert comes around, say you took too much of the other stuff and can only eat a tiny bit. Afterwards they'll spend a couple hours arguing about who got the most and the best compliments, and by the time they shut up and realize we didn't actually stuff ourselves entirely we'll be long asleep."

   
"Seems like you've got it all figured out," Brendon chuckled, though he planned on following the instructions nonetheless. If he was being honest with himself, he knew he would probably be complimenting Ryan's mother more on her cooking-- he wanted her to like him, after all. It wouldn't do to be hated by someone who Ryan loved so much. He was so glad to see Ryan, as well, that he wanted to spend as much time with him as he could. He dearly hoped Ryan had missed him just as much.

"Oh," Ryan said with a laugh and a twinkle in his eye. "Trust me, I do." 

***

 

Ryan had taken his time tucking Lucía in that night, telling her a long bedtime story to make up for a week apart, and sung her several songs until she was fully asleep, and now he was back in the hallway, on his way to his own bed. He chuckled slightly when he saw Brendon exit Isaac's room only seconds later. Still smiling, he walked over and quickly wrapped his arms around Brendon's neck, leaning in and pressing their foreheads together. "You know," he whispered, feeling some weird mixture between awkward and daring. He wasn't sure if he was acting just right or incredibly dorky. Ryan hadn't been a blushing virgin for many years, but Brendon had an uncanny ability to bring that side out of him again. "I've wanted to kiss you since you stepped off that plane."

 

Brendon's breath caught in his throat and he found himself smiling dreamily before he leaned in and pressed his lips against Ryan's, his hands immediately finding their way to his waist. "Me too," he said quietly, pulling away. "But I don't think it should be in the hallway," he chuckled softly, kissing Ryan again before pulling away fully and motioning awkwardly to Ryan's room.

 

Laughing quietly, Ryan reached out and grabbed Brendon's hand, gently pulling the younger man with him towards his bedroom. He didn't have any expectations for anything more concrete than kissing and talking to happen between them. Not yet, anyway. With Brendon he seemed to have a barrier that he hadn't experienced with anyone else. He wouldn't go a step out of line before both of them were ready, before it meant something. And for some reason he wasn't going to be ready with Brendon before he was fully involved emotionally. It felt odd, when he'd had one night stands without that much trouble before, but he knew he wouldn't be able to with this one. Maybe it was simply the fact that Brendon had been his first, that Brendon was the only person he'd ever been in love with. Doing something that meant nothing would cheapen the past. Somewhat sobered, Ryan pushed the door open and led Brendon inside, closing the door silently so as to not wake either of the children, and then he leaned in once more and connected their lips, feeling a rush of elation take over his whole being at that simple contact.

 

Brendon wrapped his arms around Ryan once again and moaned softly, pulling back slightly to lap at Ryan's bottom lip. He felt his eyes flutter shut and let the sensation take over, just as intense now as it had been years ago, though perhaps he was more sure of himself today and that made it so much better. He pulled Ryan tightly against him, knowing they should probably be talking, but he didn't want to let go yet. Or ever, for that matter. He didn't want to push too far, either, so he told himself that when Ryan pulled away, he wouldn't protest, no matter how much he wanted to. Doing the wrong thing right now would ruin everything they had worked for. Knowing that he never wanted to leave Ryan's side made the wait easier, anyway.

Ryan surrendered to the kisses, wrapping his arms around Brendon's neck, and reveling in the feeling of having someone close, someone he knew cared, someone who would still be there tomorrow and someone who, if he did happen to go too far, he wouldn't find himself too disgusted with having to wake up to tomorrow. He opted against breathing through his nose and instead broke the kiss when he ran out of air, leaning his face against Brendon's shoulder instead and just soaking up the feeling of being held. He had been expected to be the strong one his whole life, with his father loading dreams on his shoulders and then the agency, the war and being a father before he was anywhere close to ready. He'd gotten through it all, more or less whole, but sometimes all he wanted was to throw the reins to someone else and let himself be taken care of for once. And after everything he'd been through, didn't he deserve that? Whether he did or not, he enjoyed it, breathing in Brendon's scent and Brendon's whole presence and feeling safe in a way he hadn't for years.

"How was your week?" Brendon asked softly, kissing Ryan's hair and running his hands up and down his back. He pulled them towards the bed, and let himself fall back, Ryan on top of him. He wanted Ryan so bad, but he knew he would have to wait, and distracting himself was probably the best thing he could do right now. That, and he really wanted to hear how Ryan's week had been, what he had done, how Isaac had been-- everything.

"It was great," Ryan answered, somehow completely relaxed. Just a few months ago he'd have said Brendon was one of the last people he'd ever feel this comfortable with, but it seemed he was in for quite a few surprises. "Isaac, really, is an amazing boy." He chuckled softly, never lifting his head. "This makes me sound so weird, given his age, but I really think I have a lot in common with him, and getting to spend time with him was great." He still kept his face hidden, not at all sure of Brendon's reaction to what he was going to say next. "I can see myself, one day," he whispered, "loving Isaac as though he were my own son." He exhaled heavily, hoping with all his heart that Brendon wasn't about to pull away and throw a fit.

Brendon inhaled sharply, his arms tightening around Ryan. "Really?" he breathed, kissing Ryan's ear. "I think I might... be able to feel the same way about Lucía," he whispered uncomfortably, though he was sure of himself. "She's really proud of you, you know. She loves you so much," he said, chuckling. "I was really surprised. Not that she loves you, but that she is just... I don't know. So strong," he said, smiling. 

"She has her grandmother's strength," Ryan muttered, finally pulling himself up off Brendon's neck. He smiled slightly, leaning in and placing another peck on Brendon's lips before getting situated comfortably next to him. "I guess it skipped a link," he added with a small sigh, looking up at the off-white ceiling. "Or maybe only the women in my family get it." He didn't say that he wasn't worthy of Lucía's pride, didn't want to start an argument. "It means the world to me that you see Lucía the same way I see Isaac," he said instead. "I don't know how we could've moved forward otherwise," he added. "Where we are in life now, we can't just aim at being a couple," he added, feeling like he was repeating himself, although at the moment he couldn't even remember if he were repeating his earlier statements or simply his thoughts. "If we want a future we have to aim for being a family." Exhaling softly, he turned so he was lying on his side and cuddled up to Brendon's side, resting his head on the younger man's chest. "And it wouldn't be possible if we weren't on the same page," he added.

Brendon was silent for a moment, letting everything sink in. He thought of his week with Lucía, a dopey grin on his face. She had been an angel the whole time, surprising him at every turn with how independent and reliable she was. He still couldn't really believe how grown up she was, even though she was still so young. He'd never seen a child act like that, though she did remind him of himself, sometimes. She knew to take on responsibility, which he had also learned at a young age, but she was different in that she let herself have fun, just like a child should. "You're the strongest person I know," he finally said, glancing at Ryan. He knew he'd come a long way if he could admit that, through it all, Ryan had been a pillar. He'd had his moments, but on the whole he was surprisingly put together. He took care of Lucía and himself, had raised her to be a wonderful person, even if he couldn't always see it.

Ryan held back the probably bitter laugh that was rising in his throat, shaking his head slightly. "I'm a mess," he stated truthfully. "But things are moving in the right direction, and maybe one day I will get there." He breathed in, letting Brendon's scent cloud his mind for a moment. And really, he was beyond surprised by how quickly and easily he was falling for the younger man again. And so far it hadn't brought so much as a shred of pain with it, against all his expectations. It didn't stop him from being scared, though. "Is it stupid that I'm afraid of growing to love other people almost as much as Lucía?" he asked softly, somehow finding that he needed the reassurance.  


  
Brendon bit his lip, unsure of how to answer. He hesitated for a second before forcing himself to speak. "Jenn says that... your kids should be the most important part of your life," he said carefully, chewing on his lip. He hadn't quite understood what she'd meant the first time she had told him this, but he did now. "You will always be a big part of my life... and a very important part, but Isaac is my son. You know?" he asked nervously, hoping he hadn't said completely the wrong thing.

Nodding slowly, Ryan felt a small smile spread over his face. "I know exactly," he answered. "I feel the same way. I guess what I meant is that... I'm scared of loving people who aren't family as more than friends, and I'm scared of letting physical intimacy mean something again and I'm scared that really letting you in again will hurt more than it's worth, and I feel utterly stupid for it." He twisted his hand a bit in Brendon's shirt, suddenly feeling a strong urge to hold on. It wasn't that he expected Brendon to yell at him and run, not entirely anyway, it was just... he wasn't even sure what it was, and that only made him feel the more foolish.

Brendon felt his heart clench, and he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to control his feelings. He didn't want Ryan to be afraid of getting hurt, and he didn't know how to convince him that he would never do anything to ruin what they had, and what they would have. He reached out to run his hand through Ryan's hair, sighing softly. "I would never knowingly hurt you," he said, then made a face at himself. "And I hope that I never unknowingly hurt you, either," he added, chuckling dryly. "And we can take as much time as you want. You know, to get intimate," he smiled.

Ryan almost automatically leaned into the touch against his head, feeling suddenly unwarrantably sleepy. "We're all products of our past," he stated softly. "And in the past we have both hurt each other one hell of a lot. I know we're both going to be careful not to do it again, but that doesn't mean we don't have the scars, no matter how much we'd prefer a clean slate." He sighed, rolling the fabric of the shirt between his fingers, biting his lip lightly for a moment. "And thank you," he added. "It is going to happen at some point, don't worry. But this time I want it to happen for the right reasons, and I don't want to end up using sex to push you away emotionally, which I probably would if we started before I get things worked out a bit more in my own mind."

Brendon smiled, leaning in to kiss Ryan again, lingering a bit before pulling back. "I think that, despite everything, I like that we have a past. Granted some of that past contains some of our worst moments, but..." he shrugged, a smile playing on his lips. "I think we can handle it," he finally concluded, sighing softly as he cupped Ryan's face with one hand. If they hadn't met, everything would be very different right now, and that scared Brendon a bit when he really thought about it. He might have married someone he didn't love, had a completely different child, and he would be taking on more responsibility than he could possibly handle. Maybe there would still be a war going on. Who knew?

Smiling slightly, Ryan nodded. "I guess it helps that we have already seen each other's worst sides. There's no perfect illusion to shatter." He leaned in and kissed Brendon again, slowly and languidly before pulling back and letting out a small yawn, followed by an embarrassed chuckle. "Sorry," he muttered, leaning back down to just snuggle close and letting his insistent eye droop shut, another yawn escaping as things seemed to start to swim a little in his own mind. And before he could stop it he was fast asleep.

Brendon smiled softly, pulled Ryan closer, and closed his eyes, letting the blissful oblivion take hold.   


 


	25. Deleted Scenes: Ryan's Christmas Gift

Brendon runs out of excuses much faster than he would have liked. They've been home for a month, and he's been busy. Busy organising and hiring and--and decorating, for God's sake, decorating children's rooms because Spencer asked him and as long as it meant he was too busy to go rooting through all of his possessions, no job was too small. But he's run out of excuses, now, and it was inevitable, really. At first, he'd told himself, "too soon." The onslaught of memories brought back just by Ryan's mention of the Christmas Present That Had Ended It All (as he liked to refer to it, now) had been daunting and Brendon didn't like being reminded of his own mistakes. He remembered all too clearly how unsure he'd felt, that first night with Ryan, and how that had morphed into resentment that Brendon had tried to hide with contentment. His excuse of 'too soon', however, had quickly proved to be a lie Brendon couldn't even fool himself with. He had a son, now, for crying out loud, and Brendon-- well. He was improving, both as a father and person. 'Too soon' was long past. This was not to say that Brendon didn't try other excuses, though, running through them in his mind-- too busy, can't find it, must have lost it, no point in looking, don't want to get hurt, don't want to see the object that made me lose my mind-- day after day, until they sounded stale and cowardly even to him.  
  
Against all odds, when Brendon does find the box, it's an accident. He stumbles upon it in his search for Isaac's newborn clothing, things that he's promised Spencer as a donation for the orphanage. Nevermind that he's already donated his life to the orphanage, he grumbles unfavorably, before catching himself and mumbling that he's happy to have done it, because he is, he's just cranky right now. Behind him, someone chuckles.  
  
"My knees hurt," he whines shifting his weight from one to the other before settling back on his haunches. He's pulled out countless boxes in his search, Spencer and Jon going through their contents in the middle of the hallway only to inform him that most of them contain his clothes. Jon, he can see, is thoroughly annoyed, and Spencer's lips quirk up at their bickering.  
  
"I just--" Brendon flails a bit, exasperated, "I can't remember where we put his baby clothing. If it was in a closet or in the attic, the basement, the garage..?" he trails off thoughtfully, ignoring Jon's annoyed grumbling about too many goddamn closets. With a huff, Brendon is digging through the seemingly never ending closet once again, wondering how in the world he managed to acquire so much stuff, and that-- that is when he finds it. With one hand supporting him on the wall and the other having shoving aside a bag of something (flip flops, he thinks, and would smile at Jon's obsession if he weren't so preoccupied), it takes a minute before he can register exactly what it is he's seeing, but when he does, he sits back abruptly, clearly shaken.  
  
"Find something?" Spencer asks quietly, moving closer to peer over Brendon's shoulder. "What's this?" he chuckles, reaching for the small box. "Looks like someone lost a present. Do you know who--"  
  
"Mine," Brendon cuts in. "It's mine."   
  
Sitting in the middle of the hallway, Brendon turns the box over, his hands shaking with the reality that he's finally going to see exactly what Ryan had wanted to surprise him with all those years ago. Uncomfortably aware of his best friends' stares, Brendon looks up with a reassuring smile and ready to deliver a half-lie as explanation, but Spencer beats him to it.  
  
"Isn't that..?" he purses his lips, eyebrows drawn together, as if trying to remember something important. Before he can come up with anything, though, Brendon's pushing himself up to his feet.  
  
"I'll.. be in my room," he announces, turning away before either of them can say anything and shutting himself in his bedroom. He knows that, despite their curiousity, they know when to leave well enough alone and won't come looking for him or require answers to their unasked questions. Sitting on the bed, Brendon opens the small box before he can think about it too much. He's bound to turn it into something it's not; something frightening, instead of what it actually is; a fairly innocuous gift.

  
What he finds inside surprises a smile out of him, but the knot in his throat tightens despite his relief. Picking up the small leather string with trembling fingers, Brendon brings the pendant closer. The Lover's Knot, he thinks, swallowing heavily. He knows Solomon's knot well, having seen it on paper and in old architecture, and he remembers having read it's symbolism somewhere. Brendon tries to ignore the memories it holds; a time he's come to think of as his worst. Before he can decide against it, Brendon slips the leather around his neck, and takes a deep breath. He can do this. He's just a few years late. He takes another breath, stands up, and walks out of his room.

 

"Okay," he says, smiling at Spencer and Jon, still standing in the hallway and speaking softly to each other. "Where were we?"

 

Spencer's eyes flicker down to the necklace around Brendon's neck, but he doesn't say anything. Just smiles, says, "find me some baby clothes!" and that's that. Brendon grins and gets back to work. He'll call Ryan later.


End file.
